


To Die Along With Him

by vampirequeen (damnitlaura)



Series: (Hunting) it’s a Lifetime Gig [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Decapitation, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Head Injury, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Threats of Violence, Torture, Violence, facial mutilation, fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnitlaura/pseuds/vampirequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a failed hunt, Dean comes home to find a devastating surprise, something that he never imagined would happen in a million years, let alone a year after establishing his relationship with Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lunchbox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunchbox/gifts).



It had been a long week. The hunt that Dean was positive would only take 3 days — 5 days tops - was now ending its third week.  
Dean opened the door of the shady motel room, a six pack of beer and a white paper bag with 2 orders of burgers with extra bacon, cheese and fries.  
Sam wasn’t back yet, so he put the bag of burgers and beer on the table and sat at the edge of his bed. Fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket he unlocked the screen and went through his list of contacts. He didn’t have to scroll too long for the number he was looking for; he touched the space of the screen where the number was displayed and the phone dialed. Dean could hear the sound of ringing even before he placed the phone next to his ear. On the third ring, the line connected and through the small speaker on the phone Dean heard a rich, raspy voice answer with a slow, almost thought out, “Hello?”  
“Hey,” Dean answered with his own low, gruff voice, “how are you? How are things over there?”  
“I’m fine Dean, Everything is…good.” There was a pause and a deep sigh from the man on the other side of the line. “I miss you.”  
Dean felt something lodged in his throat when he heard those words, clearing it once, twice, a third time before he was able to talk again.  
“Yeah, me too.”  
“When are you coming home?”  
“I don’t know…couple more days, maybe.”  
“Oh.”  
Dean could practically see the frown the ex-angel was now wearing when he said that one word; it made Dean’s heart clench in a painful way, not that he would admit it to anyone other than Castiel when they were in the privacy of their own home.  
Home, he thought, the place he believed he would never have, not the way he had now, a small 2 story building that he could call his own, where he would wake up to bright, warm rays of sun that filtered through the blinds of his bedroom. Where the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted in every morning at exactly 7:23; where once a week, without fail, he would have to fix the leaky faucet in their bathroom. Where, on lazy afternoons he would watch Dr. Sexy on the medium size TV he had bought at a garage sale, sprawled out on an old, worn leather sofa they had acquired in a small used furniture store.  
He missed all of this greatly; but most of all, he missed the reason behind what made all those insignificant things matter - he missed his lover.  
He missed the too blue eyes that brightened his day more than the summer sun on a July afternoon, he missed the way Castiel would go about the house, carrying one thing or another, rearranging things and making sure the devil’s traps, hex bags and angel banishment sigils—Dean remembered arguing that the angel sigils weren't really needed, he argued that he saw how the night sky lit up with what he was sure were all the angels of heaven falling, were undisturbed. He missed the way Castiel would slowly and in his awkward way move closer and closer to Dean, then squeeze in to lie down next to him and spoon while watching Dr. Sexy.  
Dean missed waking up every morning next to Cas, legs intertwined while talking about some unimportant thing. Mostly these little chats consisted of things they wanted to do, like rearranging the living room and study, going out to watch a movie, or having dinner at the fancy restaurant in the middle of town. About having a B.B.Q. and having Sam and some of the neighbors over or Castiel reminding Dean that he had to fix the leaky faucet, again.  
Dean missed the way the former angel would dance around the subject of adopting a child, dropping some subtle hints here and there and not so subtle hints as well; how he would let Dean know of his desire to form a family, with him of all people.  
That and the fact that Castiel reciprocated Dean’s feelings still boggled the hunter’s mind and on more than one occasion had been the reason for his lack of sleep.  
And, above all, he missed sleeping with Cas; their limbs a tangled mess, the moans Dean could coax out of the former angel, the way Castiel’s body would shudder and rock at the mere touch of the eldest Winchester. He missed the taste of Castiel’s lips, the way their bodies connected so perfectly when they became one; the way Castiel’s legs felt when they wrapped around his waist, the wordless plea for Dean to go further into the body of his lover.  
“I really miss you.” Castiel said from the other side of the phone.  
Dean smiled; it was so like Cas to take the words right out of Dean’s lips.  
Before Dean could say anymore Sam burst through the door, “Look, I’ll call you again tomorrow.”  
He was about remove the phone from his ear and hang up when the urge to tell Cas something he already knew but was no less important rose in him, he cleared his throat and said the following three words loud and clear, “I love you.”  
Castiel’s “I love you too, come home soon.” Followed quickly after, the longing was almost palpable on the ex-angels voice, making it clear to Dean that he was not alone in his short termed misery.  
“Talk to you tomorrow.” And with that Dean removed the phone from his ear and hung up, tossing it behind him on the bed.

With a grunt Dean hefted himself off the edge of the bed, grabbing a beer and rummaging through the paper bag. He fished out a carton of French fries and a foil wrapped burger before taking a seat at the small shaky table, Sam followed suit a minute later.  
They ate in silence for a long while. Dean was on his second beer, halfway through his burger and mostly finished with his fries, eyeing Sam’s hardly touched ones, when the taller Winchester asked,  
“How’s Cas?”  
“He’s good,” Dean answered as he picked a few of the salty potato sticks from his brothers’ carton, a hint of wistfulness in his voice; Dean was pretty sure that Sam could see the yearning for his home in his face, the want to sleep in his bed that would creak and moan (in protest) with the slightest movement, next to the body of his lover.  
They continued their idle chatter, about how they were both readjusting to “normal-everyday-civilian life”, they shared and swapped stories of their mundane adventures to the grocery store, work or the picking of house furniture; Dean purposely left the out the story of him and Castiel’s first adventure to a chain clothing store. Even though it was the most comical thing that he had yet to experience with the ex-angel, he was sure his little brother would not like to know about the activities that had ensued in the dressing rooms due to a pair of jeans, a button down shirt and a pair of black boxer briefs.  
Dean also made no mention of his and Castiel’s want to adopt; it was a topic that he and Cas still only talked about in early mornings, when it was too early to get up and start the day or too late to go back to sleep or when sleep eluded them all together.  
“Sounds like you've had your hands full,” Sam said in-between chuckles as he wiped the beginnings of tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes, “but you look happy—well not right now, right now you look miserable, I mean when you talk about life with Cas, you look happy and I’m happy for you Dean.”

“How are things going with Carmen? You guys moved in together—what 2 months ago?”  
Carmen was a blue doe-eyed fiery redhead, a bit spontaneous, Sam still hadn't divulged on the exact details of how they came to meet or under which circumstances but he was infinitely grateful to whichever forces brought the two together; whether it be God, The Devil or one of those rare random acts of the universe. Sam looked happy—as happy as he was when he was in Stanford with Jessica all those years ago, maybe even a bit happier.  
From what Sam had told Dean, Carmen was pretty much in on everything; all the things that he had kept from his Stanford friends, from Jessica, he had revealed to Carmen. Even the truth behind why he parted ways with their dad - his wanting to be “normal” and blend in and not be the “new kid” every few weeks. It seemed that she had taken everything in and was able to sympathize and imagine the hardships that the youngest Winchester went through as a kid.  
“We’re good, really good, it’s…a relief her knowing about these trips and understanding.” Sam smiled, he knew that his hunting trips, like the one he was in now, put a bit of a strain on his relationship and if it were any other girl, Sam was sure that she wouldn't be as understanding. If she were any other girl she would probably think that he was off on a trip with his closest buddies or that he was with some random girl partying the nights away, but Carmen knew better. 

It had been a week and a half of her and Sam dating when she became the target of a shifter, 2 days later the copycat monster was at her door pretending to be the youngest Winchester. Upon gaining entry into her apartment, the doppelganger threw himself at Carmen, his too big hands circling her thin neck without a problem. She was seconds away from scumming to unconsciousness due to oxygen deprivation when Sam burst through the door, silver knife in hand. He charged at his doppelganger trying to shove the silver plated blade into the middle of his chest, all the while attempting to keep the collateral damage to a minimum.  
He wrestled the monster and when the shifter had had him pinned down, instead of running, Carmen had tried to help him by attacking the doppelganger from behind but the monster was stronger and he easily shifter out of her grasp, sending her flying to the nearest wall.  
After a few minutes and what looked like every possible breakable piece of glass and furniture lying in a million little shards on the floor, Sam had managed to lodge the silver knife between the shifter’s ribs and into his heart. The monster gasped and slowly lost his hold on Sam’s arm and slid down to the floor where he laid motionless. By then, Carmen was a confused mess of tears and blood.  
The explanation of what he did for a living was not easy but after a few calming cups of tea they got through it.  
“We are nowhere near as good as you and Cas are, but we’re getting there.” said Sam, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.  
“Shut up.” Dean said, mirroring the smile that had taken over the features of his little brother.  
“Alright, let’s get some shuteye.” Dean said after he downed the last of his beer, he stood gathered the trash and empty beer bottles and dumped them in the small black waste basket that was next to the small kitchen counter while Sam took the unopened beer bottles and stored them in the mini fridge in their motel room, walked over to their individual beds and plopped down and waited for sleep to take them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A twist Dean didn't see coming that lands him in the hospital.

Dean hadn’t expected the turn of events that had ensued. The trail of vics they had been following for the past 3 weeks had hinted to a wraith but they had missed the clues that revealed the actual monster that had been behind all the ghastly kills in the town and thus were completely unprepared for the fiend they now faced.  
They had prepared themselves with silver bullets and silver plated knives; it wouldn’t have taken much to kill the wraith, a simple scratch from either the knife or the silver bullets would have been enough for the wraith’s skin to crackle and crumble to pieces, but the monster that had cleverly deceived the brothers was a ghoul and when Dean and Sam had come face to face with it, they knew they were royally screwed.  
Dean was the first to attack, aiming his bullets at the head and neck, hoping against all odds that one of them would be a lucky shot and do more damage than just stun the ghoul for a couple of seconds.  
He should have known he wasn’t that lucky.  
Dean emptied an entire clip on the ghoul but no real damage was dealt; the ghoul then charged at Dean, the back of his hand making contact with the side of Dean’s face, sending him flying across the empty space of the room and against a wall, the back of his head making a revolting crack when it bounced off the worn drywall. Adrenaline raced through his veins, overshadowing the throbbing pain as he looked around for a makeshift weapon that could be used to sever the monsters head. That’s when he saw that the ghoul had straddled Sam and was delivering blow after blow to his little brother’s face and Dean charged at him, his shoulder making contact with the ghoul and knocking him off of Sam. Dean was quick to get on his feet and pouncing the monster while he was still down, throwing one of his arms around the monster’s neck and with his free hand attempted the blind it thinking it would give them time to find a suitable weapon to make away with the ghouls head.  
After reaching and struggling, Dean was able to pierce and pop one of the eyes from the monster’s socket, clear jelly and blood mixed together and sliding from his fingers to his arm. The ghoul screamed in agonizing pain and began to try and pry Dean off, Dean all the while clutched to the ghoul like his life depended on it, which in retrospect it did. He looked at Sam who was rallying and getting to his feet from the assault he had received, the right side of his face showing signs of swelling and the beginnings of bruises that by this time tomorrow would be a lovely shade of dark purple. Dean quickly sought the next eye but before the hunter could touch the corner of the still good eye, the ghoul ran to the nearest wall and slammed his back against it. Dean heard something crack when he made contact with the drywall but he continued to clutch at the ghoul and seeked the eye.  
Half blind and full of rage, the ghoul repeated the act until he felt Dean’s hold on him loosen, reaching back then and threw him off his back; Dean slammed against the floor with another sickly sound emanating from somewhere in his body, he couldn’t tell where. The ghouls was on top of him in a matter of seconds, taking hold of the nearly unconscious hunters shirt and began to pound away, his fist making contact with Dean’s face in the most vicious manner and it was after the fifth blow that everything went black.  
“DEAN!”  
The cry was alarmed and frantic; it was the last thing he heard before unconsciousness claimed him completely.

* * * * *

A faint noise started to pull Dean from the darkness that had snuggled him in its cold embrace.  
pp…pp…pp…  
He fought with the blackness that he had made his home and slowly the black changed in color going from matte vast and shapeless black to a more confined and defined sphere that ranged in shades of red and deep orange at its edges.  
Eep…eep…eep…  
The noise was too loud now and was recognizable - it was the beeping of an IV machine. The sound grated against Dean’s ears making it feel like the sound alone would split his head in 2.  
After a fierce battle with eyelids that he felt weighed a ton each, he opened his eyes to fluorescent lighting, white walls, stiff sheets and the strong smell of disinfectant.  
He looked around the room but no one was there. He was in the midst of looking around the bed for the remote that had the nurse call button when Sam walked into the room, a styrofoam cup in his hand the stem of hot coffee wafting up.  
“Dean, you’re awake!”  
“What happened to me?” Dean croaked as he tried to sit up without pulling at any of the needles that were hooked to his arms.  
Sam quickly walked over, setting the cup of coffee down on the high rolling table and tried to help Dean up against the pillows, his hands hovering the few spaces that didn’t have some sort of tube or needle stuck to his brothers skin, when Dean waved him away.  
Dean couldn’t believe how heavy and stiff his limbs felt; he looked down, surveying his body.  
No casts. Or braces.  
Well, that’s a relief, he thought. No casts meant he was good enough to check himself out and go home.  
“Dean, what do you remember?”  
Dean looked at Sam as if he had sprung another head.  
“What do you mean what do I remember?” He asked almost incredulously,  
“Did you—” Dean stopped himself from finishing that sentence as a nurse walked into the room, a smile on her thin pale lips; her small dark eyes looking over the several machines that were around Dean’s bed.  
She was small, her long brunette hair tied at the nape of her neck. She reached into one of her pockets and fished out a syringe and pulled it free from its wrapper along with a small bottle that was filled with a clear liquid. Her movements were so practiced, like second nature, something she didn’t have to think about, like breathing.  
She filled the syringe and made all the necessary movement to flick the air out of the needle, inserted it into the IV and pushed the contents into the tube that was hooked up into Dean’s arm.  
“I’m Debbie and I’ll be your nurse,” she said, pulling the needle out, putting the top in and throwing it into the special waste basket. “That was tramadol, should help with the pain.”  
As soon as those words left her mouth, Dean felt a bit better. She said something about his doctor coming in and explaining a few things and she then excused herself and walked out of the room.  
Dean turned to look as Sam, his eyes a bit glazed over from the medicine but still aware and coherent.  
“Did you get the ghoul?” Dean asked as soon as the nurse was out of earshot, but Sam didn’t answer.  
“What?” Dean asked flatly when the silence had spread over a few minutes.  
“I should’ve—I’m sorry Dean I tackled him and tried to pound his head off with a piece of broken glass but he knocked me off and got away.”  
It was then that Dean noticed the bandages around Sam’s hands.  
“And I couldn’t just leave you there, you were unconscious and bleeding so much and I tried to wake you but you didn’t and I…”Sam trailed off, taking a deep breath to steady himself then continued, “I couldn’t leave you like that, I just couldn’t.”  
“It’s ok Sammy, we can hunt down and gank that son of bitch as soon as you get me out of here.” Dean said after a few annoying beeps of the machine next to him.  
Sam laughed and shook his head, “I’m pretty sure the docs wanna keep you in for at least a few more days.”  
“How long was I out?” Dean asked somewhat concerned about the amount of miles the ghoul had put between them and it.  
“3 nights, 2 days.”  
“Damn.”  
“Doc had you hopped up on pain meds, says the blow to your head was pretty bad.”  
“How’d I get it?” Dean asked nonchalantly as he clenched and unclenched his hands, working on getting feeling into them.  
“Bar fight,” answered Sam with a small chuckle, “I cut my hands on broken bottles after a few smacks on the face.” He continued, his voice and posture was that of two brothers who had shared a wild weekend, which was his purpose as the nurses were walking and peeking into Dean’s room more often now, asking it he was ok, if he needed anything, water, an extra blanket, another pillow, or if he was ready for lunch; which he was and it was stupid for them to clam up every time a nurse walked passed their door, it made them suspicious and them more noisy, and the last thing they needed was a noisy nurse.  
“How’d the other guy look?”  
“Lot of damage done to the left side of his face, won’t be hard to recognize if he wants to go for round 2, bet you his eye is gonna swollen for at least a week.”  
“Oh you bet there’s gonna be a second round.” He said almost gleefully as a nurse walked in with his tray of food, setting it down next to Sam’s forgotten and now cold coffee.  
Sam moved the table closer to Dean and uncovered the dish, a puff of white steam rose, slightly stinging the back of Sam’s hand; the smile that had spread across Deans face when the nurse walked in with the tray of food vanished.  
The porcelain round plate was dominated by green beans and on the side, a piece of meat, half the size of his palm, was covered in thick brown gravy, at least he hoped it was gravy.  
“What the hell is this?” Dean asked disgruntled  
Sam picked up the small recite and read what was bolded; “Steak with meat gravy, steamed green beans, iced tea and jello.” He then unrolled the fork, knife, and spoon from the thick black napkin but before Sam could move to cut the stake Dean stops him saying,  
“Dude. No.”  
Sam was startled as if he was awoken from a trance, he looks a Dean a little puzzled and then at his hands and the realization of what he was about to do dawned on him and quickly moves to set the utensils down.  
With some effort Dean was able to pick up the fork and poke at the warm food experimentally, the edge of the fork slides through the meat as if it were butter. Dean drops the fork and pushes the table away.  
“You’ve gotta get me some real people food Sammy.”  
“Dean this—”  
“No way, this craps gonna kill me! You need to go buy me a burger, extra cheese and bacon, large fries and a beer.”  
Sam stared at Dean, eyebrows raised and lips pressed together.  
“Fine a coke, extra grande.”  
Sam opened his mouth to argue about how none of that was healthy and wasn’t gonna help him get better when Dean interrupted him,  
“If you don’t get me my food, so help me God, I will march out of this hospital, bare assed, and get it myself.”  
Sam knew better than to stand in the way of Dean and his food so he willingly conceded.  
“Fine,” He said, “I’ll be back in a few.”  
And with that, Sam walked out of the room, fishing out the keys to the impala out of his jackets pocket, hoping fervently that there was a diner close by and, above all, that they served their food fast. If there was anything worse than a hungry Dean was a cranky hungry Dean  
As soon as Sam was out and down the corridor, Dean pushed the nurse call button; it beeped once and a few seconds later a nurse answered.  
“Need something hun?”  
“Yeah, I want to make a call but—”  
“Be with you in minute."  
A few minutes later a nurse with burgundy scrubs came into the room, she was all smiles and long fluttering lashes. She reached for the phone that was on the table between Deans bed and the far wall.  
“What’s the number?” she asked, her voice almost sing song in its sweetness.  
Dean recited the phone number not stuttering or stammering between numbers.  
The nurse began to dial and as she pressed the keys she asked with a smile, “Letting the girlfriend know where you are?”  
“No,” he answered with a smile.  
The nurses smile widened and her eyes sparkled with something akin to a predator looking at prey.  
“My boyfriend.” He continued cheekily and defiant (but his smile still retaining some of its endearment and fondness.)  
The nurse pressed the final key and handed the phone to Dean, then turned on her heel and left the room, muttering under her breath, What a waste  
Dean laughed as he put the phone next to his ear; the dial tone beeped 3 time and then was quickly followed by Castiel’s voicemail message.

Hello, this is Castiel. At the moment I am able to take your call for something else requires my immediate and full attention, leave your name and the reason behind your call and I shall contact you as soon as possible.

The message was followed quickly by a beep.  
“Cas, it’s me, first of all I’m fine, I don’t want you to panic but I got a few cuts and bruises that need to get looked at, nothing major, I’m at Mercy Crest Hospital in Wisconsin, room 109. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”  
He placed the phone back in it’s cradle, a sinking feeling taking over and gnawing in the center of his stomach which grew in intensity as the seconds ticked by; after several minutes, Dean forcefully brushed the feeling away, convincing himself that the wave of sickening worry was due to hunger.  
“Damn it Sam, where are you with my burger.” He muttered to himself, turning the TV on and sifting through the channels, looking for something that tickled his fancy.  
He stopped on a Mexican soap opera, one which had a beautiful brunette crying over the body of a man and screaming the name “Luis Ricardo.”  
He grabbed the small plastic container of jello and settled back into his pillows, peeled the foil cover then reached for the spoon on his tray and began to eat it as the novella continued.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean discovers why Cas wasn't answering his phone.

Dean didn’t want to use the word panic, even if it was internally, but that’s the only word that could describe his mental and emotional state.  
It had been 2 days since he had called Cas and he hadn’t called back; not the hospital, not Dean’s phone, not even Sam and Cas always called back especially if Dean was injured. It didn’t matter how small or insignificant the injury was he would call and ask, more like demand, to know how Dean was.  
The gnawing sensation that he had felt the day he had woken up had grown and traveled to the center of his chest, cinching uncomfortably around his heart; the feeling affected his lungs making it hard to breath at times.  
“Dean calm down, he probably just lost his phone.”  
“No Sam, you don’t understand, Cas wouldn’t lose his phone not when—” Dean took a deep breath and steadied himself. “I’m leaving.” He finished, shoving the remainder of his soiled clothes, which he had arrived at the hospital, into the duffle bag that Sam had brought him that morning with a clean change of clothes.  
Debbie the nurse walked in then, a clipboard with a thin stack of paper in her hands,  
“Ok, you have sign here; stating that you are requesting to be let go despite the doctors advice of staying until he has cleared you for release.”  
Dean took clipboard and pen from the only nurse who had continued to be just as nice and sweet after being told that he didn’t play for their team, signed the piece of paper and returned the clipboard to her. She flipped the sheets and tore the yellow piece of paper that had at the top in red bold letters, “PATIENTS COPY” and handed it to Dean.  
“That’s your copy to keep, and…” she sifted through some pages and fished out a small square piece of paper with a few lines of illegible text,  
“This is your prescription for pain meds,” she then leaned in and dropped her voice to a playful whisper, “I suggested the doctor give you a few extra pills since you’re checking out early.”  
Dean gave her his best 4 star smile, “Thanks.”  
He took the prescription, picked up his duffel bag and headed out, Sam right behind him.  
The walk through the hospital was a blur; nothing really registering in the eldest Winchesters mind until he saw his baby in the parking lot.  
“You gonna be ok?” he asked Sam as he threw his duffle bag in the trunk.  
“Yeah Carmen should be here any minute now.”  
Dean was hesitant, the urge to drive home clashed with not wanting to leave his little brother alone in the parking lot of a hospital.  
“Dean just go!”Sam urged and that was the only encouragement Dean needed, he opened the door of the driver’s side, slid in behind the wheel, closed the door and started the car and maneuvered his baby out of the parking space then down and out of the parking lot.  
As he raced down the road he spotted familiar looking silver Prius going in the opposite direction; he only caught a glimpse of black rimmed glasses and red hair. He was relieved Sam wouldn’t have to wait long.  
After what felt like an hour but was actually 15 minutes and several blocks, Dean found the turnoff to the freeway that headed west and sped down the asphalt, paying little mind to the traffic and the laws he had to follow while driving. He reached for his phone, swiped the screen and touched the contact information for Cas, the screen went black and the phone dialed. The dial tone beeped 3 times and the voicemail messaged played again.  
“Damn it Cas.” He muttered to himself tossing the phone on the passenger’s seat and pressing harder on the gas pedal.  
After driving for a day with only the necessary stops (gas and food) he was finally driving down the familiar roads he traveled through day after day. The busy pedestrians recognizing his car and waving, he didn’t bother waving back, not when he was struggling to keep himself upright in his seat and with both hands on the wheel and within the speed limit of the main road.  
After a few miles, he turned on his street and sped down the drive; after a few seconds he was pulling into his driveway barely missing Castile’s car, which was parked exactly where it had been the night Dean had driven away 4 weeks prior. He flew out of the driver’s seat; his head throbbed in protest at the sudden action, making him close his eyes to steady himself; after a few seconds he pushed himself forward, going up the few porch steps and bursting through the doors.  
“CAS!”  
The house was too quiet as he walked in and about; catching the scent of something unpleasant.  
“Cas!” He called out again as he walked to the threshold of the living room, looking in to see if Cas had fallen asleep on the couch.  
He hadn’t.  
He stepped into the kitchen. No Cas, a few dirty plates in the sink and the garbage needed to be taken out. The dining room next, no Cas either.  
“Cas!” Dean shouted, but received no answer.  
Maybe he fell asleep in the study, Dean thought, trying to justify the silence, he is a heavy sleeper; probably fell asleep with his headphones on again.  
He continued to walk through the bottom floor; making his way to the study and remembering it had taken him days to get Cas to take off his headphones, he slid open the door to the study, no Cas in this room either. Dean was about to turn around and leave when the desk caught his eye, Castiel’s headphones and phone, connected to the thin black laptop, on the screen a dialog box with the words “Transfer complete.” Under that line of text an “Ok” button.  
Dean’s entire body and sense were on red alert but he pushed the panic down; hoping against all odds and evidence that everything was as it should be.  
“Cas!!” he yelled out, a little of the panic filtering into his voice regardless of his efforts to remain calm and collected. He turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, taking two at a time.  
The unpleasant odor that he had perceived when he first walked into the house grew into a nauseating stink as he continued up the stairs, he went straight to their bedroom, the door was ajar; he pressed his hand against it and eased it open, the stench that wafted out of the bedroom was like a punch to the face, knocking him back a few steps and making bile splash in the back of his throat.  
At the edge of their bed, a few steps away from the bathroom, Cas was laying, motionless, one too blue eye staring up at the ceiling; the other mangled and destroyed beyond recognition on the floor, the socket left empty, dried blood caked on the corner and making a trail to the floor. His left arm bending at an odd and impossible angle, a thick line of red running across his neck and all around his corpse a pool of blood that had had enough time to soak and set into the cream colored carpet.  
Dean took the few necessary steps to reach the edge of the dried pool of blood, his strength leaving him with every step he took and he fell to his knees next to his lover’s body.  
“…Cas…” He croaked out, “Cas, baby…” The hunter reached out with a shaky hand, his fingertips making contact with the stiff skin, it was cold, too cold, the color long gone from his pale sun kissed skin and it was then that the tears began to fall; it was then that the false hope, the last shred of faith that Dean had vanished, was burned by the fires of truth and turned to ash that was carried away by the harsh and bitter winds of reality; leaving him cold and empty inside.  
Castiel was dead.

* * * * * 

“He would have wanted it this way” said Sam as they both watched the flames engulf the corpse.  
“Yeah...” Dean struggled to get the one word answer out, the knot in his throat making it hard to breathe let alone talk.  
Sam was the one to suggest they give Cas a hunters funeral, the ex-angel had been hunting with them long before this, but Dean had never thought, even when he fell, that Cas would die. He didn’t want to admit that he hoped that God, wherever he was, would always bring Cas back and keep him safe no matter what, he had done it several times before, so why was this time any different. it had been about 3 days since he had discovered the body, secretly hoping that he would rise from under the white sheet that covered him, he would still have his blood stained clothes and blood matted hair but he would be fine, cuts healed and bright blue eyes intact.  
He had waited 3 days, and nothing.  
They both stood in front of the pyre, watching that no trace of the body was left, until the wee hours of the morning. Dean hadn’t noticed when Sam had left and the only reason he was made aware of his brothers absence was because Sam rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder and held up a cup of coffee.  
“Dean, you should get some sleep man.” Sam said, giving the shoulder that was under his hand a tight squeeze.  
Dean cleared his throat, driving the knot that was lodged there down and said,  
“Yeah, I will, I just...want to make sure everything burns.”  
“Dean...the pyre has been out for a few hours.”  
Dean turned and Sam was right, judging by the smoke, the pyre had burned out about 2 hours ago, 3 at the most.  
“Guess it’s done.” he said in a flat voice, he then walked past Sam and into the house.  
The house felt empty, even with him and Sam in it; the house felt vacant and cold as he made his way to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee, his eyes falling on the green numbers of the coffee machines digital clock, 7:23 and it was then that he felt it, the crushing weight that would send him into an abyss of sorrow and despair. He felt the tears sting his eyes, his breath hitch with every passing second and his heart clench in the middle of his chest. He knew he was seconds away from being crippled by his grief, he gripped the edge of the counter and braced himself there, hoping he could maintain himself vertical, at least until that night, when he and Sam to leave, that he needed some time alone with his thoughts or some crap like that; maybe even ask him to get some food from the other side of town, “Martha’s Diner” He thought, Sam would believe him if he asked him to go grab some food from there, he’d ask for the chili burger and some pie, Martha had some great pie, Sam would believe him, he wouldn’t be wary about leaving him alone for a few minutes to grab breakfast, Sam wouldn’t suspect a thing.  
He just needed a few minutes to calm himself, as soon as he convinced Sam that he was ok he would go back to Carmen, and Dean would be able to grieve to his heart’s content, but not now. Sam would never leave if he caught him now. He would try to help, have him talk it out or something, and he didn’t want that. He wanted to drink and cry and stand at the foot of the pyre and ashes and say some final words to Cas, things he couldn’t bring himself to say in the presence of his brother, things that he only told Cas in private, when they were both bare of any and all walls—mostly him, Cas was an open book at Deans command.  
Dean gathered himself and was able to push the tears and grief away just in time to escape Sam’s watchful eye.  
“You okay man?” Sam asked as he set the cup he had taken to Dean.  
“Yeah, I’m good,” He knew he had to do this right or he would never get out from Sam’s hawk like surveillance, “I was just thinking about going to get some breakfast.”  
“Don’t worry about that man, I’ll get.” Sam said even as Dean headed to the front door. “Want anything special?”  
“Chili burger from Martha’s Diner,” Sam nodded fishing his keys from his pockets and heading to the front door; before Sam could clear the kitchen threshold Dean called him back. “and a slice of pie.”  
“Sure.”  
And with that Sam walked out of the house and into his car then down the drive to the other side of town.  
Dean let a few minutes pass before he walked out to the backyard where they had set up everything to send Cas off, he stopped at the foot of the pyre and spoke softly,  
“I’m so sorry Cas, I…”  
In that moment, something in Dean shifted, his grief and sorrow didn’t ache like they had minutes before in the kitchen, they burned, it was a painful and furious sensation that engulfed him completely. The tears that he had pushed back weren’t falling now; in fact they were nowhere to be found.  
The sadness had turned to anger, and it was that anger that pushed him forward to do the following.  
Dean turned away from the pyre and headed into the house, his stride was fast as he made his way back out to his baby, which he mounted and was racing down the street; a new thought fueling his every move.  
Revenge.


	4. Chapter 4

It had taken 5 vampires, 3 demons, a werewolf and a third of the things Dean had picked up in hell to reach the end of his search, a search that lead him to the state of Florida, to a light blue painted house with a white picket fence, a nice green lawn and rose bushes.  
Dean had been stalking the house for 3 days, always using a different car and a different disguise for each time he rolled into the street and parked his car.  
He wasn’t stupid, he knew that there was a high possibility that the ghoul knew he was there, probably knew it was him since he rolled into town, probably knew it was him outside, parked in the faded blue minivan; but that didn’t stop him from climbing out of the old vehicle, slinging the duffle bag over his shoulder and making his way across the street and to the back of the house.  
As he walked along the driveway, the smell of rotting became stronger, making bile rise in the back of his mouth as the memory of looking for Cas in their house flashed in his mind’s eye, sending a surge of something that pushed him forward, making him forget his regard for civilians and his need to remain unnoticed.  
He took hold of the doorknob and turned, it didn’t move. Dean looked the door up and down and turned from left to right making sure that no one was around, when he was satisfied that he was in the clear, he took a bandana from the inside of his jacket pocket and wrapped it around his hand and punched one of the glass panes of the door; knocked the shards out of the way and reached in to unlock the door, again looking around to make sure he was clear to go into the house without being noticed, which he was, he pegged his good luck to the neighbors being at soccer practice with their kids, this looked like the neighborhood that would have that type of families.  
Dean reached behind him and pulled his chrome plated gun from his waistband and pointed it ahead of him, checking the corners and for an oncoming assault that didn’t come.  
He went through the entire house, kicking in doors and looking under beds, looking for his prey but the house was empty.  
“Well, lucky me.” He said to himself, putting his gun back in his waistband, the cool metal sending a shiver up his back which mixed with a spasm of anticipation, making for a feeling close to that of sexual arousal, a feeling that rivaled the anticipation that he would feel when he and Cas would be in the midst of foreplay or would be on the verge of making love.  
He thought of the things he would do to this monster, making him pay a hundred times over for what he did to Cas.  
He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being and concentrated on making a plan on how to trap the ghoul that had eluded him for the past 6 months.  
Dean lost track of the time as he set some small traps that were meant to disorient rather than do actual damage, he was saving that part for himself, when at long last, he heard the clinking of keys and the creak of the door swinging open, followed by the immediate sound of tripwire being set off and metal making contact with skin, Dean jumped out from his hiding place to deliver the final blow that was sure to send the thing into la la land for a good few hours.  
Dean had discovered a basement while he had searched for the ghoul and had made that his little lab.  
On a small wooden table, that he was sure had once served as a student desk, most likely of the girl he had knocked out and tied up; Dean laid out all of his “tools” and in the dim light, they all seem to glisten with a menacing glow  
He picked up one of the many knifes that were lined up along the edge of the desk and brushed his thumb across the blade, the blade was sharp making the pad of his thumb prickle.  
The girl began to rally, she was small and thin, somewhat fragile looking, she couldn’t be over 17 and Dean couldn’t help but think that the ghoul had chosen this type of girl to make him reconsider what he was about to do, unfortunately for the ghoul, Dean had lost all sense of mercy and compassion. Her dark brown tresses covered the right side of her face as her head rolled and her eyelids began to slowly open.  
A devilish smile spread across Dean’s lips and he walked the couple of steps back to the pillar that he had confined her to.  
Within seconds she becomes fully aware of her surroundings and the bindings around her wrists, ankles and torso, her eye going wide with shock and fear. She whimpers and squirms against the constricting ropes but to no avail, panic making her shake like a leaf on a tree in the middle of a tornado.  
“Scream for help if it makes you feel better,” Dean says and the girl takes a deep breath and screams the single word, “Help.” At, what seems to be, the top of her lungs.  
After a few long shouts that leave her breathless, Dean takes a deep breath and exhales slowly and with a little shake of his head and very disappointedly says, “Looks like everyone’s at soccer practice sweetheart.”  
Dean smiles at his own joke, of course they are, he had timed this perfectly.  
“Look, I don’t know who you are or who you think I am, but you’ve got the wrong person.” She said between gasps of air, which actually made Dean smile.  
“Really? Huh.” He says almost indifferently, looking around him and pulling up a chair right in front of his hostage “Well, who do you think, I think you are?” he asks, twirling the blade in his hands.  
The girl whimpers and lowers her head, “I don’t know, but my name is Lisa, I live here with my mom, she’s a waitress at Fred’s Diner, she works there from 7 to 8 sometimes 10 pm, I work part-time in the local hardware store, we go to the supermarket on Sundays. Whoever you think we are, we aren’t, please, you have to believe me, you’ve got the wrong people.” She said through broken sobs and with tears streaking down her face.  
Dean didn’t move a muscle, his features set in a way that just shouted, I ain’t buying what you’re selling princess.  
He fiddled with the blade, picking at dirt under his nails with the tip, inspecting it then flicking it away. He did this for all his fingers on both hands, glancing at the young girl between fingers.  
The girl, dreading what would be in stored for her if she continued her silence, spoke in a flurry, her words almost running into each other, “I swear, we don’t know where he is, he hasn’t even called, for all we know, he could probably be dead in a ditch somewhere.”  
Dean continued to stare down the young girl.  
“We haven’t seen Kay in almost 2 weeks, I swear, I have no idea where he is.”  
“Kay?” Dean asked, fake curiosity coloring his voice  
The girl looked relieved, a bit of color returning to her eye along with a twinkle of hope.  
“Cailin Mercer, my stepdad, Jimmy O’s guys usually come looking for him around this time of the month, he’s a loan shark or something, knows my stepfather from back in Ireland or something.” The girl was on a roll, her little secrets spilling out of her mouth like a broken dam, “He’s a gambler and Jimmy is the only guy that will lend him money, but he’s always late in paying him back, so he always sends a few guys to rough him up but if hes not here, they rough up my mom and me instead to deliver the message to him”  
Dean gave a hard laugh stood from his chair and leaned down to be at eye level with the teenaged girl.  
“You know, I’d almost fall for your shit if you didn’t smell like rotting flesh and graveyard dirt.” Deans says pleasantly with a smile, which makes him look and sound all the more menacing; he raises his hand and gingerly moves her hair away from her face, revealing the butchered eye, “Let me guess, family defect.”  
Her mouth fell open and she visibly deflated, her fate sinking in, realizing that she has no way out and was completely in the hands and mercy, or rather lack, of this man, who, by her hand in another form, had taken the one person who meant everything to him.  
She was completely and unmistakably fucked.

* * * * *

Sam was sitting on one of the blue padded chairs that lined the walls; his eyes fixed on the dark grey double doors that lead to the Intensive Care wing of the hospital.  
“Sam...”  
The younger Winchester tore his eyes away from the metal doors and in the direction that the voice had come from. Carmen was standing in front of him, a tall cup of coffee held out to him.  
“Thanks babe.” he said as he took it from her small hands.  
“Any word?” She asked as she took the chair next to his, her glasses riding down the bridge of her nose, her fiery red hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Sam only shook his head.  
“Nothing.” He said after taking a long gulp of the dark hot liquid.  
“Have you called—” Before Carmen could finish her question a raspy voice came from down the wide corridor that lead to where they were sitting,  
“Sam!”  
Bright blue eyes crazed with worry and panic, hair disheveled and the traces of stubble on his cheeks, the dark blue jeans and wrinkled white shirt with what was most likely a band t-shirt peeking out from behind the top 2 undone buttons, a burgundy sweater and a faded blue jacket showed that he had gotten dressed in a hurry. The man hurried to where they were and with a quick but affectionate “Hello” to Carmen, he turned his full attention to Sam,  
“How is he? Where is he? Have you received any word that he is ok? When can we go in and see him?” The man’s words were running into each other, and in desperation he clutched at the front of Sam’s shirt, his voice sound too gruff, “Sam! Where is Dean?”  
“Cas calm down,” Sam said as he took hold of Castiel’s wrists and with a gentle force, freed his shirt form the clasp of the ex-angels grip.  
Castiel let Sam push his hands away and he inhaled deeply, releasing the air slowly through his lips. After a few minutes of silence, Cas apologized to Sam for his outburst.  
“How is he?” Cas asked again, more calmly now.  
“He’s in intensive care, from what the nurses said when they wheeled him past those doors,” Sam nodded in the direction of the big metal doors that he had been staring at minutes ago, “he’s probably going to be in there awhile.”  
Castiel’s shoulders sagged as he took one of the empty chairs that lined the wall, burying his face in his hands and scrubbing hard, like the action would make the reality of this current tragedy go away, but when he freed his face from behind his hands, he was still in the hospital, next to Sam and Carmen who were holding hands, Cas figured this small action, insignificant as it seemed was what was keeping him whole while Cas felt that he was falling apart at the seams.  
He clasped his hands, closed his eyes and lowered his head so that his forehead was pressed against his hands; and for the first time, in a long time, Cas prayed.  
Father, if you can hear me, please, let Dean be okay, give him back to me, if you won’t, then please, let me die along with him, I ask you this in the name of your son. Amen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, this chapter is kinda vivid with the violence and torture and blood, so read at your own risk.

Dean had hacked, chipped, sliced, cut, pealed, popped and burned away at the girls flesh and joints and with every injury he inflicted the agonized scream that seemed to come from the very bottom of the ghouls soul, if it had one which he thought was highly unlikely, made Dean feel an intense satisfaction that urged him forward, a sensation so powerful and full of bliss it could be mistaken for sexual arousal.  
He looked at his prisoner, still unconscious as he sharpened his instruments, after a few more strokes against the honing rod, he tested the sharpness of all his blades against a sheet of paper, each gliding through the paper without any resistance, like a knife through butter.  
He grabbed a bucket of ice cold water and splashed it on the monsters face, she awoke with a gasp, whipping her head up, that with just looking at it gave Dean a vague sense of vertigo. She coughed hoarsely, her chest heaving violently and going slack against her restraints.  
After the coughing subsided and several calming breaths, the ghoul lifted its head weakly and pleaded with shredded vocal chords,  
“Please…end it…have mercy…” tears streamed down her face, “Please…end it…” she said again, her voice going small as she ran out of air.  
Those words burned Dean, not with compassion or mercy but with rage, bringing Cas to his mind, picturing him at the mercy of this monster and pleading for his life, asking it why, asking it to stop and his words falling on deaf ears because this monster had killed him bloody.  
Dean dropped the empty bucket, reached for the thick leather glove in his back pocket, grabbed the iron rod that had one end heating in the rusted old fashion heater and pressed the white hot end against the slope of where neck turns to shoulder.  
The first thing that Dean heard was the sizzling of the skin quickly followed by the stench of burned flesh and warm blood then the a high pitched scream that broke through a few octaves and was all agony. She thrashed against her restraints, trying to back away from the scalding heat but Dean only pressed the steel stake harder against her skin, which started to give way and dipped to the form or the metal spike, tears rolled down her face as the skin around the seared flesh turned an angry red, the edges blistering, the thin skin breaking and the clear liquid running down the length of her chest.  
Dean repeated the action under her collarbone, then on the opposite shoulder and once again on her breast, burying the iron tip a few centimeter in the soft tissue. The sound that came from her lips was a mixture of a scream a cry and a curse, Dean couldn’t be sure, but he did enjoy it, it made a part of him—a part that he couldn’t believe he had—jump with glee as the cry subsided into a choked sob.  
The ghoul had gone slack against the bonds that kept her in place, her body shaking from the pain that still radiated from the brand new cauterized skin, Dean took a fistful of her hair and pulling it back so that she would be able to look at him and when her eye meet his she flinched.  
“Did you have mercy on him?”  
Dean practically spat the words, but behind all the anger and hurt was honest curiosity, a question that had been eating away at Dean since he had found his lover’s mangled body in their home.  
He had wondered if it had been quick and painless or if the ghoul had dragged it out like Dean was doing now.  
She didn’t say anything and Dean had his answer.  
No, no mercy was shown to Cas. The unspoken answer might as well have been the crackling of thunder in the middle of an electrical storm, or the sound of crashing waves. It echoed through his being and filled the whole of the basement.  
He placed the iron rod back in the flames of the old furnace, taking off and tossing the gloves on the table, looked over his collection of tools and picked up a set of cutting pliers, walked behind her, took hold of one of her fingers and maneuvered it between the metal peaks and closed his fist. The sharped steel bit and tore through skin and muscle, blood squirted and dripped down his own fingers and hands, some even managed to get on his face but he didn’t flinch or stop, he was anxiously waiting for the scream but it didn’t come, not when he managed to cut through the bone or when the severed finger fell to the floor with a slight “thud”.  
He circled back around and stood in front of the ghoul, she had gone under…or at least he thought she had.  
He went through several fingers as if he was eating french fries but the ghoul wouldn’t stir, she was limp against her bonds.  
He threw the cutting pliers on the table and picked up an old wooden bat, he inspected the dull tan stick and smiled, he never would have guessed that he would use his batting skills on any ones legs.  
He twirled the bat in his hand, gave it a little spin and swung.  
There was a crunching sound when the tip of the bat made contact with the side of the leg; he swung again and the sound of flesh being pierced filled the small space between him and her, another swing and another. Dean struck her legs so many times he lost count and the “crunch” of bones breaking was replaced with a wet sound; he continued pounding her legs until his arms burned with exhaustion and he could no longer maintain his grip on the bat, which flew out of his hands when he delivered the final blow.  
A feral growl escaped his lips as he looked on the still body, the little blood that had been in it spilled onto the stained floor.  
“SON OF A BITCH!” he screamed out, hot angry tears stinging his eyes, he couldn’t help feeling cheated and robbed, she was supposed to suffer longer.  
Dean closed his eyes and rubbed his eyes hard, the ghoul had expired, there was nothing he could do about that, just make sure that it stayed dead. He picked up a machete from the table and with practiced skill, swung the large blade and severed the head from the body; landing on the floor with a muted thud and rolling a few feet away from the body.  
Dean walked over to his chair and let himself fall, feeling a crushing exhaustion that threaten to send him under in a matter of seconds. After a few minutes of battling with his eyelids he stood from the chair, picked up the head from the floor and placed it on his table, as far away from the rest of the body as possible, reached into the right pocket of his jeans and fished out his cell phone and turned it on. The screen flashed and the phone slowly powered on; when all the logos had flashed across the screen a box settled in the middle with the words:  
Missed Calls 100+  
73 Voicemail Messages and  
100+ New Text Messages Inbox Full.  
He pressed the icon to go to his missed calls and headed up the stairs, rubbing the back of his head, there were calls from Sam, Bobby, Jody, Garth, even Carmen had called him a few times. He then went into his inbox to check his messages, pressed the screen where Sam’s name appeared and scrolled through the messages.

Dean are you ok?

Dean where are you?

Dean what’s going on with you? Call me.

Dean we’re all really worried about you. Call me.

Dean where the hell are you?? Call me!

Sam’s text messages continued in the same manner, asking what he was up to, where he was, stating his concern, saying if he needed to talk he was there, that they all were, the way Sam’s text messages were written made it sound like Dean was on some sort of breakdown, to be honest, it made Dean smile a little, his little brother was concerned over him.  
He cleared the basement stairs and headed to the kitchen, searched for the coffee machine and the things needed to get it started. After filling the water reservoir to the 4 cup line, adding the filter and ground coffee beans then flicked the “on” switch and waited for the coffee machine to brew the much needed dark hot liquid. When all the water from the reservoir had emptied into the carafe, he took it from the heating plate and poured himself a cup, which he had taken from one of the cupboards, the cup was in the shape of a ghost and had the words “Boo!” in a word bubble next to the mouth.  
Dean took the first sip and looked around for something to go with his coffee, he walked over to the refrigerator, opened it and rooted around for some eggs and bacon, the smile that spread across his face upon finding the pork slabs vanished almost immediately when he saw the mold that was scattered across the bacon, he reached for a loaf of bread and it was as hard as a rock, finally he reached for a blue carton of milk so he could add some to his black coffee, he opened it and the smell of rotten milk made him flinch.  
After the second sip he was feeling better, the crushing exhaustion was reseeding and he felt how his senses started to register everything around him. The smell of garbage, the significant amount of dust on every surface and floor. He caught a glimpse of the lawn through the window, the grass was long, too long and had yellowish spots throughout the green square. He figured it must’ve been about midafternoon. He took his coffee and headed back down to the basement, deciding to wait out the hours there.  
He drank his coffee while he cleaned the various tools he had used and stuffed them into his duffle bag, he then moved to mop up the blood that was still fresh on the cement floor then halfway through he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and slowly turned his head.  
The ghoul was still and tied to the wooden bean, the legs were a mess of blood, crushed bone, and shredded skin, the head was still severed and laying on the table. He turned to the other side and seeing nothing out of place returned to what he was doing.

…Dean…

Dean froze. The word had been a whisper, an all too familiar raspy whisper that he hadn’t heard in what felt like years, and it was impossible for him to be hearing it now, especially since there was nothing anchoring the man behind that voice to the world of the living. 

…Dean…

When the voice came again he felt the touch of another’s hand on top of his, it was gentle, like the kiss of a feather but had the roughness of a man who worked with his hands.  
Something in Deans chest tightened, he knew this touch, knew who these hands belonged to, he had worshiped, loved, kissed, and held these hands night after night for almost a year

…I miss you…

When the voice came the final time Dean did the only thing he could think of, he picked up his things and set the house ablaze.

**** 

Cas had never regretted falling more so than this moment; he was still reeling form the news the doctor had given them. He couldn’t recall the entire speech the tall dark toned man had given him and Sam but by the way the man’s eyes were avoiding his from behind his thin wire rimmed glasses and the way he had spoken to them he knew it would be bad.  
He sat in the only chair in the room, keeping Dean company and thinking back to the days where a simple touch would have fixed everything, fixed all of Deans ailments, the ones he knew and the ones that wouldn’t manifest themselves for another few years. He reached out and placed his fingertips to the side of Deans face, closing his eyes and searching within himself, trying to find the power that had once allowed him to do minor miracles, disappear and reappear in different places in a matter of seconds but he didn’t feel it. He squeezed his eyes tighter, looking further into his core, hoping against everything that there would be some dormant remnant of his power specifically for this one occasion but there was no power of the angel he used to be in his body now, only the memories of when he had fought his way into hell to rescue Dean and everything that followed, his memories before that had become a bit hazy.  
He pulled his hand away, tears stinging in his eyes as he looked at his lover laying on the bed.  
“Dean,” Cas said, hoping that his voice would be enough to bring Dean back from his unconscious state.  
“Dean,” he said again, but there was no reaction. He reached his hand out and placed it on top of Deans still one gripping it tightly and with tears falling from his blue eyes.  
“I miss you,” he said, voice breaking as he hunched over, his free hand covering his eyes, his shoulders shaking as he cried and came to term with the reality of the situation.  
Dean was comatose and there was nothing he could do about it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for me to update this. hopefully, I'll be updating again on a weekly basis.

Sam walked back to room 109, a cup of black coffee in each hand. He was about to cross the threshold when he saw Castiel—completely oblivious to his presence. His hand was outstretched and placed against Deans temple, eyes closed and his brow furrowed, as if he was exerting a great deal of concentration. It didn’t take long for Sam to figure out what Cas was trying to do and it broke his heart. Cas bent forward slightly, as if the change of posture would help him. Sam continued to watch Cas, not having the heart to interrupt him but knowing that he should, the former angel slowly opened his eyes and the disappointment was visible on his friends face, his shoulder slumped as letting his hand fall beside him. He breathed a heavy sigh and fell against the back of his chair, it was then that Sam walked in, pretending that he hadn’t seen Cas try to heal Dean. He stopped beside his friend and set the cups on the small table that was beside the hospital bed.

“Cas, you should go get some sleep.”

Castiel looked up, it took longer than it should have for Castiel to recognize him, but after a few rapid blinks he shook his head and cleared his throat.

“No, I’m staying here…Dean will wake soon.”

Sam knew what Cas was going through, all the hurt he was feeling and knew that there was nothing on earth that could possibly move him from his chair. He also knew the hope that he was feeling, the assurance that Dean would pull through this, would be opening his eyes any minute asking for a beer and a bacon wrapped burger with extra bacon and grease because it was Dean, Dean always pulled through, even when the stakes were stacked against him, he would miraculously come out the other side with a shit eating grin, ready to celebrate his victory with ice cream and strippers.

He knew because those were his exact feelings.

They were quiet for a while, just listening to the constant beeping of the heart monitor and the low buzzing of several other machines that Sam had never seen.

“What did the doctor say?”

Cas asked, breaking the silence.

Sam took a deep breath, partly because of the long speech he was about to give to Cas and partly to steady himself because of what he was going to tell Cas.

“Doctor says the blow to the head was pretty bad, it’s a miracle there wasn’t any internal bleeding, there’s a couple cracked ribs that are going to make it painful for him to breath, some cuts and bruises but nothing that wont heal in a couple of weeks,” Sam paused, looking over his brothers still form.

“What about…” Cas trailed off, but Sam knew exactly what he was asking.

“His arm and leg are pretty bad, the doctor mentioned surgery— maybe even multiple times if the muscles and tendons were injured because of the way the bone broke...” Sams’ words trailed off as he looked at the pained expressions of his friends face, his too blue eyes were shining with unshed tears and his chapped lips were pressed together, the ends quivering as he worked to keep the sobs from breaking through; he couldn’t continue telling him what other prognosis the doctor had mentioned.

“How long…?”

Cas didn’t need to elaborate, it was several questions at once, how long until I can take him home? How long until he’s back to normal? But the one that was most prominent was, how long will he be unconscious?

Sam wanted desperately to give him an answer, one that held hope, one that would let him sleep at night, one that would bring back his appetite, one that would make the sadness permanently disappear, one that wasn’t a lie.

But he didn’t have that answer.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, “They don’t know, could be a few weeks,” Sam knew he would hate himself for what he was going to say next but he also knew Cas deserved to know, deserved all the details of Deans condition.

“Cas,” he began, but didn’t know how to entirely break the news to his friend. “Um, there is something else you need to know; the doctor…he thinks that Dean might not regain full use of his arm…”

Sam could practically hear Castiel’s heart breaking and cursed himself for telling him but he knew it would have been worse if he had lied to him; there had been enough lies in their lives.  
Cas didn’t say anything, he just continued looking at Dean, the silence grew uncomfortable, he was thinking about words he could say that would comfort him but that weren’t lies, needless to say he was having difficulty in finding such words.

“How did this happen?” he said, his voice so low Sam thought he was talking to himself but when Cas turned to look at him he cleared his throat and began recounting the tale of their latest hunt.

“We thought we were hunting a Wraith…and we thought we had the place where she was hiding out, but when we went in a ghoul attacked us, Dean tried to take him out and the ghoul sent him flying against a wall. I sawed off the ghoul’s head with a piece of broken glass…waiting for Dean to come help me at some point. When I severed the head I sat on the floor and looked around the room, and saw Dean laying there, not moving, I rushed over to him and tried to wake him…after several failed tries to get him to regain consciousness I brought him here.”

Cas returned to watching Dean, his hand reaching out to take hold of Deans limp hand.

“Sorry Cas.” He said, placing his hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze, “I’ll…be outside if you need anything.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the room closing the door behind him but before it was completely shut, Sam heard the beginning of gentle sobs.

* * * * *

Dean was wrapped in comfortable darkness, his body felt heavy and numb but he was content in the void. Nothing hurt, there were no memories, no guilt, and most of all, no tears and he was all for that. He was…not happy, no, Dean was sure he would never know happiness again but he was at ease in the haze, perfectly fine and to him that was a huge improvement from his regular day to day living; so when a muffled voice broke through his pleasant silence he couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed as he was slowly being dragged out of his barren chasm.

As his brain lazily began to turn on and become aware, the voice grew in volume and intensity along with a rapping sound that grated Deans waking nerves to no end. He slowly felt how his body began to wake, he felt his hands first, the tips of his fingers were cold, his arms were stiff and his elbows hurt, his shoulders came next, then slowly his torso and legs, which felt prickly, it reminded Dean of TV static. His face was last, he felt the warmth travel to up his cheeks, pull at the corners of his lips and reach to his temple and spill into his eyelids. He felt the rising and falling of his chest, the way his breaths were deeper.

He opened his eyes, his hearing was still adjusting but he was now aware that the annoying rapping was coming from the door, from it being hit repeatedly with an open hand.

He groaned and pushed himself off the bed and he instantly regretted it. He was hit with a wave of nausea that had him running to the nearest sink. Hot bile splashed against the back of his throat and burned as he tried to swallow down the acidic fluids that were coming quickly. But it was all in vain, when Dean had thought that he had his stomach under control, he gave a violent heave and emptied the contents of what he had last eaten into the porcelain bowl of the tiny motel bathroom. Each heave was accompanied by a painful groan. Dean could feel the heat and blood rushing to his face, the lack of air to his lungs was making him dizzy and the hot trail of snot that was leaking out of his nostrils was making him want to puke even more.

When the heaves subsided, the first thing he did was pull on the toilet paper and rip off a good wad and blow his nose, which wasn’t the smartest move as it burned and brought up that taste of hot bile to his mouth but once his airways were cleared he felt infinitely better. He moved to the bathroom sink, splashed water on his face and brought a handful of water to his mouth and gargled is for a few seconds, rinsing away the last traces of the acid taste that dominated his mouth for the last few minutes.

He dried his face off with one of the dark blue towels that were hung on the rack and went back to the main room, where the pounding on the door was still going. The voice was clear now as it demanded that Dean open the door.

It was Sam.

“Dean! Dean what’s going on? Are you ok?”

It was then that Dean reached the door, unlocked it and turned the knob and swung the door open.

“What Sam?” Dean said flatly.

Dean was ready for the onslaught of nagging from his younger brother, demanding why he hadn’t answered his calls or texts, why he hadn’t told him what he had been doing, what he’d been hunting.

He was expecting Sam to look at him like he was the younger of the two, like a parent scolding a child, he was ready for that, snide answers waiting impatiently on the tip of his tounge. What he wasn’t ready for was the way Sam’s eyes peered at him then widen in surprise, as if Sam hadn’t recognized him. He wasn’t ready for the way Sam’s voice came out choked with emotion.

“…Dean?”

The word was hoarse and asked several question at the same time.  
Where have you been? What have you done? What happened? But the one that hung in the air, at the forefront of all the rest was, Dean, is that you?

Dean turned on his heel and walked to the middle of the room, grabbing a shirt from the floor and pulling it over his head and down his torso. He then sat at the edge of the undone bed and grabbed his boots from the side and put them on, not bothering with the laces.

Sam was still at the doorway frozen and what seemed like on the verge of tears; there was something else in his eyes and it aggravated Dean to no end.

“Come in Sam or close the door and leave.” He snapped, the sunlight that was spilling in from the door was getting on his nerves and hurting his eyes.

Sam gave a mild jolt as the words snapped him out of his stupor; he walked the few steps into the untidy room closing the door behind him. He cleared his throat several times before he was able to speak.

“Dean…what happened to you?”

“What are you talking ab—” Dean was interrupted mid-sentence by a muffled ringing, Dean quickly reached into his jeans pocket and fished out the sleek black phone and touched the screen.

“Hey Sugar.” The voice was deep and smooth, washing over Dean’s ears like fresh water on a hot summer’s day,

“Hey,” Dean muttered into the phone.

“Though you might want to see me right about now.”

Dean felt a sudden rush of heat spread over his body reminding him of the comfortable void, of   
the blissful haze that he had been dragged out of. He gave a sideways glance in Sam’s direction, trying to determine if this was a quick visit from his brother or if Sam was planning on dragging him back to wherever it was that he had come from.

Dean’s was pretty sure that the latter was the most likely reason.

“I have a visitor right now—” Dean wasn’t oblivious at the disapproving look Sam shot him. “But, would you be able to swing by later?” Dean, on the other hand, hoped that Sam was oblivious to the desperation that colored his voice.

“Sure, what time?” The voice held a sense of knowing and understanding Dean looked at Sam again then muttered into the phone, “Not sure, how about I call you?”

“Alright, you know you’re the only one I do this for.”

“Yeah, I know, thanks.”

He hung up and quickly shoved the phone back into his pocket, the warmth disappearing, leaving in its wake a festering cold that seemed to sink into his bones.

Dean rubbed the top of his arm, hoping that the heat generated from the friction would keep the shiver at bay; all the while avoiding his brothers accusing eyes, only giving him quick glances out of the corner of his eye. It was then that Dean noticed the troubled look on his brothers’ face and by then it was too late to do anything. Sam had walked over to the cheap dresser that was on the opposite side of the room and had picked up the crumpled paper bag, seen the bent spoon, lighter and water. There were several emotions that danced across Sam’s face, hurt, pity, shock, guilt, but what dominated his features was anger.

“This is what you’ve been doing all this time? This is what has you like…this?” Sam nearly screamed as he motioned to all of Dean, “This is why you haven’t taken…” Sam’s words trailed off as the gears in his mind connected the invisible dots.

“The call before, that was…was that your dealer?”

There was no need for a reply, the guilt on Dean’s face spoke volumes.

“Jesus Dean, how could you do this to yourself!” Sam tossed the bag to the nearby trash can, 

“Do you think this is what Cas would have wanted for you? You think Cas would’ve wanted you to die along with him—”

“Yeah, well I wish I had Sammy, God knows I wish I had!” Dean snapped, the venom in his voice sounding less poisonous as tears filled his eyes and the still too fresh and raw pain tightened his throat.

“How can you say that Dean, I know what you’re feeling, I know how it feels to loose someone you love but you have to move on, there’s—”

“NO SAM!” Dean’s voice boomed over the younger Winchesters. “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” his voice cracked, as the tears started to fall from his eyes. “You don’t understand Sam” Dean said, his words broken, “there’s no moving on for me.”

Their banter was interrupted by a muffled ringing and buzzing, Sam quickly reached into his pocket and took out the phone, not bothering with the caller ID.

“Hello?” there was a brief pause.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine and I’m with Dean.” Another pause, Dean couldn’t make out the voice of the person on the other side of the line, but if he had to guess, he’d wager everything he had in his wallet that it was Carmen.

“Yeah, he’s…ok, but it’s going to be a while before we head out.”

Dean didn’t understand the hesitation in his brother’s voice; he was ready to leave at any given moment.

“I don’t know…don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated.” Another short pause, “See you soon, I love you.”

Definitely Carmen, Dean thought as he saw Sam press the screen of his phone and shove the sleek black rectangle in his pocket.

Sam let out a small breath, then looked to his brother,

“Dean, this isn’t the way. Cas…Cas would never, in a million years want you to do this to yourself.”

Dean gave a hard laugh, “You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do,” Said Sam, with all the patience in the world.

“How?” Dean asked his tone bitter and curt.

“Because Dean, I would never want this for you either.”

The tears slowly trailed down Dean’s face as he pressed his lips together, bringing his hand to his mouth trying to hold back the choked sobs as if the action alone would be able to send the pain back from where it had come.

Sam took the few steps that would put him next to his brother and placed his hand on his shaking shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance and said,

“We’ll get through this Dean.”

It was then that the crumbling walls of Dean’s restraint fell completely and he began to cry in earnest, pouring all of the pent up sorrow, anger, indignation and loss into the hollow of his palms.

Sam knelt in front of Dean, his hand sliding to his brothers back bringing the older Winchester closer, Sam half expected Dean to stay as he was, face buried in his hands but when he felt Dean press his forehead against his shoulder and his arms snake around him and cling to him, Sam understood that Dean was hurting, more than he could ever hope or was capable of imagining.

There had only been a handful of times that Sam had seen his brother cry, really cry out of pain and the inability to change what had been done.

The way Dean was crying now, was all of them put together.


	7. Chapter 7

“I’m not an addict Sam!” Dean protested as the younger Winchester pressed the numbers of an addict help line.

“I’m doing this to help you Dean.” Sam said as he pressed the final digit and raised the phone to his ear and waited for his call to be taken.

Dean gave a hard laugh and shook his head.

“I don’t need help Sam, I don’t have a problem, and I’m not a fucking addict!” Dean’s voice rose to a thunderous level as he finished his statement.

When Sam didn’t move to answer or argue with him further, Dean grabbed his jacket, the keys to the impala from the small bedside table and stormed out the door. When he heard the door slam shut, Sam turned and saw that Dean was no longer in the room and went after him, calling out his brother’s name as he crossed the threshold of the small motel room. But Sam was a second too late; Dean was already climbing into the driver’s seat of the impala slamming the door shut before Sam could get any nearer. He turned the key and the once shiny black car roared to life and in the same second Dean was pulling her out of the parking space she had been a prisoner to for God knows how long and was driving her down the road.

In the rearview mirror Dean saw as Sam got smaller and smaller as he went further down the road, until Sam was no longer visible. At the first stop light he reached, Dean fished out his cellphone from his pocket and pressed the only number that appeared in his “Recent Calls” list. After a few rings the line connects and he is greeted with a raspy voice.

“Hey sugar, I thought you weren’t gonna call. Is your visitor gone?”

“You workin’?” Dean hadn’t meant for his words to come out curt and bitter but he didn’t bother with apologizing.

“Not for another 5 hours, why?” The voice said leisurely.

“I’m coming over.” With that Dean pressed the “end button” and dropped his phone on the passenger seat, pressing on the gas as soon as the light turned green.

The drive had been quick, in less than 15 minutes Dean was pulling into the motel parking lot. He parked the impala in front of room 109 and got out, walked over to the paint chipped door and knocked hard 3 times.

The latch and lock clicked and the door opened.

“Hey sugar,” the man’s voice was like sandpaper and Dean felt his chest tighten. The hair was a little darker and styled to look like he had just gotten out of bed—maybe he had, the nose was just a few centimeters higher, the neck a little longer, no stubble, he was a few inches taller, his skin had a golden undertone and his build was smaller, more slender.

Everything about this man was wrong when he compared it to the image in his head but the eyes—the eyes were right. They were that perfect shade of blue that you only found when the sun hit the ocean waters just right.

“…Cas…” Dean sighed the name

“Come on in.” he said, stepping to the side and motioning Dean in.

When the door closed behind him, Dean turned to face the lookalike and took him in his arms. His hold on the man was desperate and vice tight as his mouth clamped down on the lips opposite his. Heat spread through his body as he pressed heated kisses against the man’s skin, chanting Cas between kisses and pants. It wasn’t long before Dean found himself grinding into the man’s groin as he searched for release.

“The bed—Dean—bed” the gruff voice whispered between heavy pants.

Dean maneuvered them from where they were standing against the door to the lumpy and undone bed. Legs wrapped around Dean’s waist, lining their erections. Dean pressed hard and ground into the other man in slow deliberate motions, hoarse moans filled the room. Deans hands fumbled with smooth fabric, tugging at the ends and pulling it free from the body under him. His hands traced the silky planes of the man’s chest, his thumbs pressing on the nipples, grinding them.

“Dean…I want…you…” said the inexact double between pants, his legs tightening around Dean’s waist and his hips bucking up, letting Dean know what it was he wanted.

Dean pulled back and they both hurried to free themselves of their remaining clothes.

“Lube’s in the drawer” the lookalike said before Dean could ask.

The older Winchester turned to the small bedside table and pulled the drawer open, fishing out the bottle of lube and pushing the drawer back in. He crawled to the middle of the bed and before he could do anything else, the inaccurate doppelganger had straddled his thighs, his arms snaking around his neck; his hips grinding his erection on Deans.

Dean didn’t waste any time, he popped open the bottle of lube poured a generous amount on his fingers, and without preamble, started to work two digits into the ring of muscles. The man on top of him slowed his movements, the muscles tightening around the intruding fingers. Dean peppered kisses on the shoulder, nibbling and sucking on the heated skin as his free hand took the softening dick and began to jerk slowly. In a few hard strokes the dick in Dean’s hand was back at full attention, beads of pre-cum trickling down the shaft.

It wasn’t long before the man was writhing in pleasure, grinding against the fingers in him.

“Dean…Dean…I want your…”

Dean quickly slipped his fingers from inside the man, slicked his own cock and let the man on top of him take him in slowly. Inch by inch, the gruff voice chanted 

“Dean, so good, yes” and “God, fuck me Dean, I want you.” Once Dean was seated inside, he waited a minute for the other man to adjust to being overly full. His hips then began to rock back and forth, his head fell on Dean’s shoulder as his hand reached for his own dick and began to pump. Dean’s hips were trapped underneath the man on top of him and Dean couldn't help but think that he was going painfully slow. Dean reached for his hips and began to guide the speed. It wasn’t long before Dean felt the heat pool in his abdomen.

In his mind, Dean imagined that the hand that was holding onto his back was rougher, that the chin that was pressed against his shoulder had stubble, that the lips that were kissing their way back to his were slightly chapped, the legs that were on either side of him were more muscular and tight.

With that image taking center stage in Dean’s mind, his chanting filled the small room, gripping him tight and driving him further into his orgasm.

With one final thrust, Dean felt himself explode into the heat on the other man’s body, screaming the name of the man he wished he had been inside of. Quickly followed by the man straddling his thighs; hot thick white strings shooting onto his stomach.

After coming down from his high, the man slipped free of Dean, going to the small bathroom that was a few feet away from the bed and locked himself there. Dean rolled onto his stomach, his breathing had returned to normal and he felt his limbs regain their strength.

After a few more minutes, the door to the bathroom opened, Dean didn’t bother looking up, he was on the verge of unconsciousness. Sleep would have claimed him had the bed not tossed with the added weight of the other man accompanied by a muted chuckle.

“Just when I had gotten you to say my real name,” he said, his voice detached but holding now ill will.

Dean pulled himself up and looked at the man on the edge of the bed and frowned.

“I’m sorry Steve, you just…”

“I look like him, I know. I know.” Steve tossed a wet towel at Dean, who went ahead and wiped away the spots and trails of cum that hadn’t come off on the sheets.  
When Dean looked up to hand the towel back, his eyes fell on the needle in Steve’s mouth, his hands busy tying the thick elastic band on his upper arm. Once tied, he opened and closed his fist a couple of times, making the veins in his arm pop up. After locating and prepping his favorite vein, Steve took the syringe from his lips and pushed the needle in and emptied half of the coffee colored liquid into his arm pulled it out and handed it to Dean, who followed suit as soon as Steve relinquished the tourniquet.

With quick and needy movements, Dean wrapped the elastic band around his bicep, slapped the crease of his elbow, the thin layer of skin quickly turning a bright pink and making the thick vein underneath press up against the flesh. 

The second the needle pierced his skin Dean felt an immense sense of comfort and as he eased the plunger down the relief was instantaneous. The nagging voice in the back of his mind that told him to go back to Sam died down to a whisper then was completely muted when he had emptied the last of the heroin into his vein. He was floating in a cloud of numb bliss and he willingly gave himself up to it.  
His eyes closed and in his minds eye he saw the face he missed every second of every day. Dean felt the need to reach out and stroke that face, feel the stubble on his fingertips, brush his thumb over the chapped lips but his hands felt too heavy.

“Cas” he breathed out, his lips turning up in a weak smile then almost instantly into a choked sob, “I miss you.”  
And with that Dean closed his eyes and let the numb take him again.

In the darkness, Dean saw and heard Castiel, the man was sad, his eyes—when the former angels face wasn’t buried in his hands—the vibrant blue was just as he remembered but they were tired and grieving. His face showed the signs of lack of sleep.

Dean’s heart tightened at the choked sounds that were coming from his lover’s throat.

…Dean…

The word was loaded with a million unshed tears.

…Come back to me…

The words were like daggers, plunged deep into his chest and piercing his heart. Dean reached out in an attempt to ease the pain from the ghosts face; before his hand could grasp the specter’s Dean was pulled down further into the abyss.

Dean’s eyes flew open and everything hurt. His eyes, his arms, he could have sworn his hair hurt. The nausea came quickly and the familiar burn of acid was rising at the back of his throat. He took slow deep breaths and the hot saliva disappeared. After a few calming minutes he rolled onto his side and Steve was slipping on his jacket.

When Dean saw that Steve was putting on his shoes, he got up and went to the bathroom and splashed some water on his face. He walked back out and Steve was rummaging through the bedside table drawer, picking out a bottle of lube and a row of condoms and stuffing them into the pocket of his large jacket.  
Dean picked up his jeans from the floor and hurried to get dressed. He was slipping the shirt on when he felt hands on his hips.

“I have a half mind on stay in tonight.” Purred Steve into the skin of Deans shoulder.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Dean answered nonchalantly.

“Might have to do something with the company.”

Dean gave a hard laugh and stepped away from Steve and finished putting on his shirt.

“It ain’t that great, I can tell you that.”

Steve sighed in defeat.

“You’re probably right. Think you can drop me off on my spot?”

“Sure,” Dean answered with a small smile, “Just let me take a shower.” Without another word, Dean walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.  
Dean turned the knobs and let the water run while stripped out of his jeans and underwear. The small bathroom began to fog up with steam; he opened the frosted glass door and stepped into the small shower closing the door behind him. The water poured down his body like a million little needles, each drop working to relax his tense muscles. Once his body was accustomed to the hot water Dean washed his body and hair quickly.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom towel wrapped around his waist, hair wet, and droplets of water sliding down his body. He walked over to the bed and stifled a groan; he had forgotten to take out his duffle bag from the car before he stepped into the shower. He lets himself fall on the edge of the bed.

“Hey Steve, could you go grab my duffle from the trunk?”

“Sure, where are your keys?”

“In my jacket.”

Steve walked over to the chair where Dean’s jacket had been thrown, he picked it up and reached into one of the pockets and paused for a minute. When he pulled his hand out, he had a small square box in his hand. He wasn’t sure what to expect to be hidden inside but he never imagined the thick silver band nestled between a cushion of velvet. He plucked the cool metal ring from its place and noticed the writing on the inside of the ring. The phrase was a little unorthodox but sweet all the same.

Steve looked up from his hands, Dean was lying on his back, waiting.

“Dean.” He breathed the name making Dean sit up almost instantly. His relaxed expression changed into one of unbridled fury in a second when his eyes landed on Steve.

Steve looked back at the ring, “Dean…I…” tears filled his eyes and a knot formed in his throat.

“Put that back!!” He roared as he heaved himself upright and off the bed.

Steve was frozen as Dean stormed his way to where he was, taking the box from his hand and ripping the ring from his fingers and placing it back in the cushiony velvet.

After a few minutes of intense silence, Steve cleared his throat and blinked away the tears.

“…Dean...”

Dean had gone back to the bathroom, pulling off the towel around his waist and pushing his legs through the legs of his jeans. He walked back out and picked up his shirt from the floor, his arms through the short sleeves and pulling it down his torso.

“Dean—I’m sorry—I thought…”

At that Dean stopped and glared at Steve, “You thought what? That I was going to ask you to leave all of this? That I was going to tell you to come home with me? This ain’t Pretty Woman.”

His eyes and words were full of venom and though he knew he shouldn’t have said those things, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the hurt and pained expression on Steve’s face. He slipped his feet into his boots, gathered the rest of his clothes and walked out of the room.  
He climbed into the impala, threw the garments he had in his hands in the back seat and drove off. As he got further and further away from the motel the box in his jeans pocket felt like it was burning and the tightness in his chest came again.

Dean wasn’t sure how he managed to get back to his motel room; all he knew was that he had to stop everything from hurting. Before he could walk over to open his room door it swung open, Sam was on the other side his face lined with worry and anger. He waited for his brother to unload on him, but instead Sam closed the distance between them and hugged him. His hold on his brother was vice tight as hot wet tears spilled over his eyes.

“Help me Sam…” he choked out between broken sobs.

“It’s gonna be ok Dean, we’ll get through this.” Sam said into this brother’s shoulder, “We’re going to get through this, I promise.”

And with that, Sam helped Dean back into the motel room where the older Winchester broke down, crying tears that were long overdue.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DRUG USE. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Also, this is the ring that i tried to describe. ](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BzINduyq440NdFlidGVXYndNYUk/edit?usp=sharing)

It had been a few hours since Dean had come back. Sam hadn’t bitched about his disappearing act, hadn’t questioned him on where he had gone or what he had done or the state in which he had arrived as it was obvious he had dressed in a hurry and hadn’t taken the time to put on certain articles of clothing. Though he was pretty sure Sam knew what he had done, he looked down at his arm, at the remaining evidence of his latest “high”. Instead Sam had helped him into the dingy motel room, maneuvered him to the nearest bed and told him to get some rest. It wasn’t long before Dean closed his eyes and was asleep, often waking to find Sam peering at his laptop. The bright light of the screen casting odd shadows on his brothers face in the otherwise dark room.

It was almost noon when he woke again; bringing his hands to his eyes to try and rub away the lingering sleep that threatened to send him under again. When he sat up, his arms, legs and back hurt from lying still for too long. He stood up to stretch and rolled his neck trying to get his blood flowing through his limbs and to disperse the aches he felt.

“Sam?” he called out, his voice groggy and still full of sleep.

He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Sam?”

There was no reply. He rubbed his eyes again and walked to the bathroom. He stood in front of the toilet and quickly relieved himself. After he was done he washed his hands and face. After drying his face he caught sight of himself in the mirror that hung above the sink. The person that looked back at him took him by surprise. His skin looked yellowed, his cheeks were sunken, his eyes looked dead and there were large bags and dark circles under his eyes. There was a large amount of coarse flat hair on his chin and halfway up his cheeks.  His hair was long and lifeless, the rich brown now looked pale and brittle; his neck and arms were thin to the extreme. As he continued to stare at his reflection the surprised look on Sam’s face made sense.

“DEAN?!”

Dean heard the rustling of plastic bags falling and the hurried thumps of feet as they entered the room and walked about in a panic.

“In here Sam.” He called out coolly. He quickly splashed some water on his face and dried off and walked out.

“What’s for lunch?” Dean asked as he walked over and rummaged through the plastic bags that were set on the cheap table.

Sam let out an audible sigh of relief and began to help Dean take out the prepared food out of the bags.

When their lunch was out of its various containers and Sam had taken his seat on one of the chairs and proceeded to serving the food on the thin plastic plates and handing one to Dean who took it and stared at it while his brother picked up his fork and began eating. Dean placed the plate down and with his fork began to move the contents of his plate around. Sam was on his third bite when Dean spoke up.

“What the hell is this?”

Sam halted his chewing and looked up at his brother, when he saw that Dean’s question was serious he quickly chewed and swallowed the food he had in his mouth and answered.

“It’s melon and beef salad.”

“It’s rabbit food!” Dean interjected; the outrage was evident on his face.

“It’s good for you Dean. Try it.”

Begrudgingly, Dean skewered a piece of beef with his fork and brought it up to his mouth and took a bite. Chewing slowly and swallowing.

“It doesn’t even taste like real meat.” He muttered as he slouched in his chair.

*****

Dean could have sworn that it had been longer than a week and a horrible week at that. Sam continued to bring his “healthy” rabbit food and making Dean eat it. Dean grumbled and complained holding fast to the promise of a big juice bacon cheese burger as soon as Sam deemed him “well enough”.

Whatever “well enough” meant.

Dean was scouring the internet for a case, when 2 hours of searching turned up nothing he closed the laptop and stood from his chair, stretched and—for lack of something better to do—threw himself onto the bed, it was well past 2 in the afternoon. Sam had left to buy their lunch, Dean could have sworn it had been well over an hour and a half since his brother had grabbed his keys and walked out of the room, a somewhat smug grin on his face. The elder Winchester dreaded what his brother would bring today, maybe another one of his blasphemous salads that Dean choked down in order to not starve. He sighed and closed his eyes and dreamed.

He saw himself in a little dinner, a large greasy burger with layers of bacon in his hands, a plate with a mountain of French fries to the side. He licked his lips and brought the burger to his mouth and took a large bite, chewing slowly and savoring the contents in his mouth. The first thing he recognized was the grilled meat. It was cooked to perfection, juicy and chewy as it moved around in his mouth. He recognized the taste of onions, tomatoes, pickles, and even the lettuce tasted like it was plucked from Gods personal garden. The ketchup, mustard and dressing came last, exploding against his taste buds like fireworks in the sky on the fourth of July.

His mind drifted making him think of other things that had brought this same elation. An image of him driving his car in the opened road took form in his mind. The colors blurred and melted, shifting into a memory with Cas, of the night they shared their first kiss. It had been a bit awkward; he hadn’t wanted to kiss him as he would have kissed a woman. He remembered alternating between rough and gentle movements. The memory transformed into his and Castiel’s first night as lovers. How he and Cas had both researched weeks before they decided to take that definite step in their relationship. The relief that washed through him when he and Cas were in the midst of (fucking) and finding that it all came exceptionally naturally to him, that even though they were both men, they fit perfectly together. Like two halves of the same whole. The memory changed again, he was in a jewelry store—no Cas in sight—looking through one of the many large glass cases that had rings on display. After searching the store for what seemed and felt like hours, a ring caught his eye. It was a silver band with a single blue diamond in the middle and some engraved lines that—to Dean—appeared to be wings. He looked up from the clear surface and waved over one of the perky sales women.

She was a small thing, an entire head shorter than Dean, with bouncy chestnut hair and a powered white face. Almond shaped dark eyes, thick black lashes and thin brown eyebrows. She was dressed in a dark gray pantsuit and a crisp white shirt with squared nails that were perfectly manicured.

“How can I help you Sir?” she asked, her voice was sweet and cheerful and the look on her face was pleasant.

Dean cleared his throat,

“Can you show me that ring?” he said pointing at the ring that he knew he was going to buy regardless of what the sales woman said or offered.

The woman, who had a name tag that read “Sally”, looked at the ring Dean was pointing to and slid open the back of the display case. She plucked a thin delicate looking gold band with a large white diamond in the middle and two other smaller diamonds on either side.

“Not that one, the one next to it—the silver one.”

Sally gave him a confused look as she placed the ring back and touched the thicker silver band, but when Dean didn’t say anything she smiled and picked up the silver ring and brought it up for Dean to see. Dean took it between his thumb and index finger; he held it with a care that resembled reverence. The lines were so graceful and carefully etched into the metal, the diamond in between the wings was the same color of Castiel’s eyes.

“The ring is sterling silver and is 6.0 mm in width with a comfort fit, the embedded stone is an asscher cut .25 carat blue diamond with a 3.7 mm in diameter. The pattern on either side of the stone ar—”

“I’ll take it.” Dean interrupted before Sally could say anymore.

She smiled and asked “What size would you like it to be?”

Dean’s smile vanished for a split second. He never knew Cas to wear any form of jewelry, had never seen a ring on his finger, even though Jimmy had been married.

As Dean debated and plotted away on how he could get Cas’ ring size the sales woman interrupted his thoughts.

“You could always come back and have it resized Sir.”

Dean gave an audible sigh of relief and smiled at the kind petite woman.

“Great, I guess I’ll do that then.”

“Follow me so we can finish your purchase.”

Sally turned on her heel and started walking over to the register, as Dean turned to follow her, his eye was caught by a sign, that read: _We Do Engravings!_

“Excuse me Miss?”

Sally turned back around, her face was all smiles and helpful eyes as she answered, “Yes?”

Dean wasn’t sure how to phrase his question, and between “ums” and “uhs” he pointed at the sign.

“You’re interested in having a phrase engraved onto the ring?”

“Yeah,” Dean said sheepishly.

Sally walked back and took one of the pamphlets that were on the edges of the display cases and brought it over for Dean to see.

She explained the process and fee, she also showed him the fonts in which he could have his phrase written and explained that the number of characters in his phrase would be determined by the fonts he chose.

“It’s usually around 50 characters.” She said as she finished her little speech and slid a small piece of paper across the glass and handed him a pen.

Dean was thoughtful for a minute; then a phrase, true in both an emotional and physical sense—took form in his mind. He wrote it down and, counted the letters to himself and handed it back to the helpful brunette. She smiled as she looked over the phrase.

“That’s sweet. Are you planning on popping the question?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered with a fond smile as he thought about Cas. “We’ve both made mistakes,” he continued, not being able to stop himself from telling this complete stranger just how he and Cas were perfect for each other, “been through hell and back but the first person we call when we’re in trouble…is each other. I don’t know, I mean, he knows I will always be there for him and I know he’ll always be there for me…and I want our friends and family to know how much I’m committed to him. I honestly don’t know how they can’t, being through what we’ve been through…” Dean trailed off, feeling a bit embarrassed at how he had just spilled his guts to this perfectly random stranger. “It sounds a bit stupid how I said it but that don’t make it any less true.” He continued a bit defensively.

Sally’s eyes seemed to be glazed over and Dean thought he might have said something that offended her but his fears of being thrown out for being rude were quickly dispersed as she smiled and said,

“Its not stupid and I wish you all the best and hope he says yes”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief and smiled back at her.

“Thanks, I hope he does too.”

He saw himself a few days later, entering the same store; He recognized Sally and walked over to where she was. Her hair was made up in a messy bun, a few stray curls hanging on either side of her face—which, Dean noted, had a constellation of freckles scattered across the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She was wearing the same dark gray and white shirt ensemble from his first visit. Her pink lips spread into a smile as she recognized him.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up a ring. Names Winchester.”

“Of course, just a minute Sir.” She said and disappeared behind a wall. Dean stood alone for almost a full minute, he had started to look at some of the other things that were on display, a nice platinum watch caught his eye when Sally returned with a little black velvet box, she placed it on the counter for Dean to take and inspect. Dean opened the box and plucked the silver band from its cushion. It looked even better than he remembered. He imagined it on Cas’ finger and the thought made him giddy. On the inside of the ring was the phrase Without you, I’d still be in hell in italicized letters. He was sure the phrase would bring a smile to the former angel.

After inspecting it and assuring that he was satisfied with his purchase, Sally placed the ring in a small (sturdy paper bag with ribbons for handles paper bag with large white hoop handles), wished him luck once again and sent Dean on his way.

Dean had just gotten into his car when his phone started ringing. He pulled his cell from his pocket and answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey Dean…I need your help.”

It was Sam and at the word “help” Dean felt his stomach clench.

“What’s wrong Sammy? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, totally fine, I got this case…”

Sam went on to explain the details of a possible job that he got a wind of. Dean listened to his brothers list of victims; they all seemed to be random choices, their ages ranged from late teens to early 60s and had been disappearing in pairs from two completely different locations.

When Sam finished filling Dean in on all the details he felt this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and hot bile splashed against the back of his throat.

“I don’t know Sam, this one doesn’t sound right. Maybe you should let some other hunters take this one.”

“Come on Dean! This is a perfect case!” Sam insisted. “You would have jumped on this a few months ago!” Sam’s was almost like that of a whiney kid.

The more he thought about the case and going with Sam the stronger the vice around his stomach got.

“Yeah, alright. Want me to pick you up or should we meet there?”

“Pick me up, no point in taking two cars.”

“Alright, see you in a few days.”

He didn’t wait for Sam to answer, he pressed the “end” button and breathed in deep and exhales slowly. Dean felt like he was about to throw up. The burn in his throat became unbearable; he rutted around in the car and was able to find a half empty water bottle. He opened it and took a large swig then quickly spat it back out, it tasted like rotten fish against his tongue but the vice clenching his stomach never disappeared.

His memory then took a turn for the worst.

He saw himself in his house Cas on the floor, limp, bloody, and pale. He smelled the stench of rotting flesh and the sound of flies buzzing about their room. He saw his lover’s mangled face and the pain was there again, eating away at his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He could feel the hot tears sliding down his face.

He opened his eyes and wiped away the salty tears and with a shaky voice whispered into the space above him.

“I miss you Cas.”

There was a whisper, like the sound of a radio playing in the next room but it was clear as a bell.

_Come back to me Dean_

It made Dean’s heart and breathing stop for what seemed like a minute. Then the raspy voice came again, it was wrecked and he could hear the brokenhearted tears in the invisible voice.

_Please….come back to me…I miss you so much_

There was a tickle in his arm, like crawling ants under his skin and an itch that he couldn’t seem to find. He needed to make the pain stop, the ache in his chest, the stinging in his eyes, the sense of powerlessness. He needed to make it all stop; he needed to not feel anything. He wanted to float around in the numbness that had been his home for who knows how many months.

He got to his feet and started searching the small room. In his boots, under the mattress, his jacket pockets, his wallet, the pillow cases, in the drawers of the bedside tables, under the chairs of the small table they used to eat. He checked in the fridge but there were no leftover takeout containers that he had used as hiding places. He checked under the kitchen sink it was bare of cleaning supplies and no brown bag in sight. Then it occurred to him. Sam, Sam must’ve searched the room and gotten rid of all of his hidden stashes. As that thought finished the itch in his arms grew, flaring out of control, making his entire body’s tremble.

Dean turned the room upside down looking for the poison that had taken over his thoughts, when he didn’t find any trace of the multiple stashed packets he reached for his jack and searched the pockets for his keys. If he couldn’t find any in the room he would go out and buy some. He stuffed his hand into one of the side pockets and the tips of his fingers bumped into something hard and soft. He pulled it out already knowing what it was and he felt the vice around his heart tighten. For a long minute he stared at the box in his hand and with a heavy heart and even heavier hands he opened the lid. Inside was the silver band, it shone brilliantly despite the crappy lighting of the room. The single deep blue diamond sparkled reminding him of the way Castiel’s eyes shone when he laughed.

He stared at the ring for a long time, remembering his lovers smile when something caught on the black cushion interrupted his thoughts. White dust was sprinkled over the shiny velvet, he took the silver band and cushion from the box. At the bottom of the case was a single white and black packet, folded several times over to make it even smaller.

His fingers twitched with anticipation as he snatched the packet from the box. He headed to the bathroom and rummaged under the too small sink. The wave of relief that washed through him when he found the small black zippered pouch that he had hidden there a few months back dropped from under the taps was almost exhilarating. He snatched it from the floor with greedy hands and went back to the kitchen, opened the pouch and drops its contents on the kitchen counter. A thin syringe and a burnt metal spoon slid and clattered across the surface.

He prepared the toxic concoction with skilled movements; dropping a piece of cotton from one of the pillows and watching it absorb the brown tinted water. He uncapped the syringe and stabbed the cotton ball and pulled back on the plunger, the needle sucked in the swiftly prepared poison. Dean pushed out the tiny air bubbles that had formed in the barrel and waited for it cool.

His body felt hot all over with eagerness as he took the syringe in his hand and twiddled with it. It was then that panic struck him.

Sam was due back any minute now; if Sam found him…in an almost wild frenzy Dean rushed to the various windows and pulled the curtains, ran to the door and secured the lock from the door knob and slid the yellow plated chain in the socket for additional security. He then, with needle secured clutched to his chest, scurried to the too small bathroom, locked the door behind him and sat on the floor, his back against the cold porcelain tub.

In his head he heard the raspy voice of his long deceased lover, asking him to go back to him. It made sense to Dean, Cas was probably as in much pain without Dean as Dean was without Cas. At least that is how he was justifying the tourniquet cinching the top of his arm and the way he smacked the inside of his elbow. It didn’t take long for the thin flesh to turn a disturbing shade of red and his vein was pressed up against the skin. He uncapped the syringe with his teeth and slowly pushed the needle into awaiting vein and muttered,

“Just a while longer Cas…I’ll be with you soon.”

He pushed the plunger down and the numbness was almost immediate. He slumped lower to the tiled floor barely registering the cold. He slipped further and further into the void that he so desperately wanted to dive into in hopes of being reunited with Castiel. His consciousness was hanging by a thread when the door to the bathroom was kicked open. The sound of wood being shattering made Dean’s eyes widen and hang on to the sight before him if only for a second longer.

He registered several things at once. Number one: Sam had kicked down the door, probably shouting and demanding what Dean had done. If the panic and anger in his face was anything to go by. Number two: he had heard the rustling of paper and plastic. He looked at Sam’s side and sure enough there was a plastic bag on the floor, a white wrinkled paper bag inside and large golden French fries spilled across the bathroom floor. Peeking out from the paper bag was a bulk of aluminum, which Dean assumed was a burger. Meaning Sam had deemed him “well enough”.

Sam was kneeling next to him then. Dean could barely feel the pressure of Sam’s hands on his shoulder if he hadn’t seen Sam reach out to him and pull him up against the tub.

“DEAN! NO!!”

Even though it was visible that Sam was shouting, Dean could only register his voice as a faint whisper.

“COME ON DEAN! NOT LIKE THIS, PLEASE NOT LIKE THIS!!”

Dean tried to focus his eyes on his brother and smiled as best he could, the corners of his lips barely lifting a fraction.

“I’m sorry Sammy…” The words were hard to say and not because his throat felt as dry as a desert or because the words were stuck on his tongue. He was just too tired. Tired of fighting to stay alive another day, tired of trying to be the better person.

There was nothing to be better for.

There was nothing to stay alive for.

Why not end it here and now.

With those thoughts in mind, Dean closed his eyes and smiled at the sickly pale man behind Sam. He extended his hand and felt the icy touch of the black suited man. He exhaled and everything was black.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angry and confused Dean, a hurt Cas, and a bit of something that is nowhere near fluff or smutt.

Castiel opened his eyes, for what seemed the billionth time, to the white sterile walls of Mercy Crest Hospital. Room 109, for the past 5 days had remained unchanged. Dean was laying in the bulky hospital bed, tubes and wires going into his arms and attached to his fingers. The screens around Deans bed had displayed the same numbers and lines.

Castiel squeezed Deans limp hand, pressing it to his forehead. He was tired, he wanted to go home, he wanted to take Dean home with him and curl up in their bed and rest. Make rice tomato soup for the older Winchester and feed it to him when he didn’t have strength in his arms, which seemed to happen often when Dean got a cold or the flu.  

“Come back to me Dean” the knot in his throat made it hard for him to continue in the same breath, he breathed in deep and tried to maintain his voice steady but it was all to no avail. His voice shook with the heartache and tears as he said the words that he hoped would bring Dean back.

“Please….come back to me…I miss you so much.”

There was a heartbeat of silence when the monitors and machines that were connected to Dean began to beep franticly. Cas looked up to one of the many screens connected to his lover and the sudden change in display scared him. The numbers had dropped significantly and showed no signs of halting anytime soon. Castiel, in a panic, pressed the “Nurse Call” button on the side of the bed several times but before anyone could answer him a woman in purple scrubs pulled back the curtain around Dean’s bed. With a calm that grated Castiel’s nerves, she walked over to him and began flicking and pressing buttons, when the beeping and screens didn’t change for the better she pressed a red button on the wall just over Dean’s head.

“What’s happening to him?” he had meant for his words to be as calm as the nurses actions and strides but his voice had come out demanding and cutting.

“I’m sorry Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Was the young woman’s reply just as a couple of her coworkers rushed into the room, wheeling over a pale white cabinet with slim drawers.

“Tell me what’s happening to him!” he demanded. His voice was raspy and wrecked as he watched a pair of hands pulled away the thin covers and another pair worked to cut Deans hospital gown down the middle. A young man opened the top drawer from the cabinet and took out a syringe, filled and ready to be used. He uncapped it and pushed the needle to one of the tubes that were attached to Dean’s arm.

When Castiel made no motion to move, the nurse that had first appeared looked to one of her coworkers and made a signal that was not lost to Cas. He had seen it several times before, only on a much better looking face.

Get him out of here.

Before Cas could react, there were firm hands on his shoulder that were turning him around and were ushering him outside. Once he was cleared of the room, he was released and the young man that had escorted him out of the room turned around to leave but before he could successfully close the door to prevent further interruptions, Cas grabbed hold of the door.

“What’s happening to him?” he repeated, his voice was quieter this time around but no less demanding or calm.

Cas recognized pity in the dark haired young man. He raised his hand and placed it on Castiel’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze and said.

“We’ll do everything we can to save him.”

With that, the young man released Cas and closed the door leaving the former angel more confused than what he had been before he was ushered out.

Cas wasn’t sure how much time had passed, it had felt like hours as he waited patiently in one of the uncomfortable blue chairs. Sam was at his side along with Carmen. They both would say encouraging phrases that were lost in the former angels ears.

Castiel was fidgeting with his hands and offering a silent prayer to whoever was listening up in heaven for Dean’s health when a sudden strong hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his trance like stupor

“Cas!”

Cas’ eyes snapped open, turning his head in the direction that the voice came from. Sam was looking, panic and worry written in his gaze.

“Cas you ok?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I was just…had my mind on other things.”

“Cas maybe you should head over to the hotel and get some sleep. You look…awful.”

“I’m fine Sam but thank you for your concern.” Cas looked around for the young male nurse from before, he was nowhere in sight and Dean’s door was still closed. “Have you had any news of Dean’s current state?”

Before Sam could answer Cas saw that young nurse that had offered the simple promise that kept the former angel from losing himself to grief. Without an apology, Castiel stood from his chair and walked over to meet the young man halfway, Sam following a step behind as soon as he saw what had made Castiel stand so abruptly.

“He’s stabilized now.” He began a smile dancing on the corners of his mouth and a joy sparkling in his amber eyes.

Relief washed over Castiel and he took a step in the direction of Dean’s room but the young man placed a firm hand on his chest, halting him.

“You said he was stabilized, I should be able to go back in now.” Cas stated his eyes were a bit confused as to why the male nurse was stopping him. The personnel had been very supportive and understanding of his want to be with Dean since he had arrived.

“Sorry, you can’t go in right now.”

“Why?” Sam interjected; his relief was quickly being overtaken by annoyance to the young mans subdued cheerfulness.

“The nurse that’s with him now is asking him some questions, its routine for cases like this. You’ll be able to join your partner in a few minutes. Until then, please wait patiently here.” The young man smiled and without another word turned on his heel and left.

It took a minute for the words to sink in, another for Cas to register them, and one more for him to understand.

Dean was awake.

Beside him Sam gave a “whoop” of relief, running his hands through his hair and tears welling in his eyes.

The relief washed through him making his legs weak and buckle underneath his weight, which he found odd since he was feeling as light as air. Before he could fall, Sam reached out and caught him, bringing him into a tight embrace, one that said everything that was caught in both men’s throats.

He’s ok, I knew he would wake up…We should never have doubted that he would wake up. He’s awake.

Cas held onto the younger Winchester as if the taller man was the only thing that was keeping him from falling apart, and in a way he was. Cas felt the sting of tears which quickly spilled over and rolled down his face, a broken sob forcing its way through his pursed lips. Sam rubbed the former angels back, comforting him, not so that Cas could calm down and push back the tears but for him to let it all go. And for a moment he did.

“Sam? Cas? What happened?”

They both turned to see Carmen, her plum lips were pressed together but that didn’t stop her bottom lips from quivering and her eyes from glazing over with tears.

“Is...is Dean…” her voice broke on the elder Winchesters name and she couldn’t hold the tears that fell from her eyes. Pain and grief lined her face as she form the remainder of her question in her head.

“No! No, he’s fine, he’s awake, a nurse is with him now asking him a few questions.”

The traces of sorrow and pain left her face instantly replaced with elation and gratitude, walking over to where Cas was still hugging Sam and threw her arms around both men. Tears and sobs of relief pouring out of her; they all stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other up and comforting one another.

*****

Dean felt heavy, his arms and legs were stiff and his mouth felt as dry as Death Valley in the middle of summer. Thankfully, that’s when a nurse walked in, she looked to be of middle age, with short auburn curly hair and hazelnut eyes. In her hands a small dull pink plastic pitcher and cup complete with straw and ice.

“Here you go hun.” She coos as she places the pitcher on the table in front of Dean and hands him the cup.

He croaks out a “Thanks”, offers her his best smile, lifts the cup and takes the straw between his lips, sucking the cool water and swallowing it eagerly.

She fiddled around with the machines that were connected to his arm, scribbled on a notepad then shoved it into one of her scrub pockets and turned and left.

As Dean looked around his hospital room he found it was a bit odd, he would have thought that he would be holed up in some room in the back, his hands and legs restraint and some robust looking nurse sitting in the corner somewhere, watching his every move, or Sam sitting by his bedside. He expected it as he floated in the darkness and slowly realized that his plan had not worked. Instead, he was in an average room, from the looks of the scenery and balcony outside his window he was on the second or third floor.

Another thing he hadn’t expected was the cast on his arm and the brace on his leg. He didn’t remember falling down when things went black but he never remembered much of what happened before he shot up, all he really recalled was the hollow ache he felt in his heart and the need to not be. It was better than being angry at himself, at Sam and at every God forsaken thing that was around him and said to “move on”.

They didn’t understand. No one understood.

Dean drank 3 cupfuls of water before he heard the soft padding of shoes on linoleum. A few seconds later a figure rounded the edge of the curtain that was pulled  to give the semblance of privacy and his eyes fell on and took in the shorter man, with bright blue eyes, days old scruff and unruly espresso colored hair.

“Hello Dean.” The voice was hoarse and tired, the smile that followed was a fond spreading of lips.

It pissed him off. Everything about it pissed him off. Dean gave a hard laugh as a scenario played itself in his mind. This monster, whatever it was was here to finish what Dean had failed to do in that motel restroom. And if he was being honest, he was kind of grateful.

“You know, you couldn’t have picked a better face. Like this, I don’t think I’ll put up much of a fight. Not that I really could.” He said smiling and looking at his cast arm and braced leg.

“Dean…what are you talking about?”

“It’s okay man, you don’t have to play dumb, though I think you missed the memo of when and I why I was hunting that ghoul…” Dean’s words trailed off as another more probable scenario formed in his mind.

Revenge.

Dean gave a hard laugh then looked at Cas, his eyes were steel as they meet his bewildered blue spheres.

“All this time, I had thought…it had only been one of you things, but thinking back on it now there was no way…no way just one of you could have gotten the jump on him.”

“I don’t understand…”

The machines started beeping around them, high shrill and erratic. Cas took a step toward Deans bed and put a hand on his which the hunter swatted away.

“Don’t touch me!” Dean practically snarled his eyes shooting daggers and his voice full of venom.

“You better run far and you better run quick and hide and pray that I don’t find you. Because as soon as I’m out of here I’m going to hunt you down and make what I did to your friend seem like a day at the park!”

“Dean please! Stop, you—”

Sam walked in then, worry lined his face and his eyes were panicked.

“Dean wha—”

“Sam! It’s a ghoul!” Dean yelled out as he pointed at Cas.

The younger Winchester was aghast as he followed Deans finger and registered what his brother had said.

“Dean what are you talking about, it’s Cas!”

“NO!! It’s a ghoul! Don’t you see! It’s the only way this could’ve happened it had to have been two of them!! They would have never gotten to Cas if it was just one!!” he began to tear and pull at the tubes and cables that were connected to his arms and fingers and struggled to sit up right.

“Dean calm down, let’s talk about this.” Sam said holding his hands up trying to appease the older Winchester.

Dean pulled at one cable and the erratic beeping that had been just background noise was now one long steady beep. A couple of nurses rushed a young blond guy and a little brunette woman in. The young blond pushed and pulled Sam and Cas out of the room while the brunette stood beside his bed and pulled out a thin packet from her pocket along with a vial of clear liquid. The blond was back with another male nurse and they were quick to push and hold him down. The pinch was quick and the drowsiness was almost instantaneous.

The last thing Dean remembers feeling was dampness in the crease of his elbow and the slight pressure of a clamp on his middle finger.

*****

Dean wasn’t sure how much time had passed it, he was sure it had been minutes but they had felt like hours. He turned his head and Sam was sitting on the chair next to his bed, his leg bouncing restlessly as his eyes were looking intently to the machines beside his bed.

Dean felt the need to rub his eyes to try and drive away the tiredness and he would have if it hadn’t been for the padded restraint that held his wrists to the bed.

At the sound of the soft clinking of the chains, Sam leaned forward, a small smile spreading on his lips.

“Dean—”

The older Winchester glared at the offensive tan wraps and asked.

“What gives?”

“The nurses—it’s just a precaution, no one thought you’d wake up, uh, lively.” Said the younger Winchester, chuckling at the way he downplayed his brothers’ behavior moments ago.

 “Whatever, you have to get me out of here Sammy; you have to get me out of here so I can hunt that son of a bitch down and make it pay for what they did to Cas!” Dean’s voice was rising along with his anger at his younger brothers apparent incompetence.

“What are you talking about Dean? No ones done anything to Cas, he’s been here the whole time.”

“That isn’t Cas…Cas has been dead for the past 8 months.”

Sam stared at Dean, his eyes incredulous at the words the older Winchester had just spoken.

“That’s impossible.”

“You were there Sam, we gave him a hunter’s funeral; we burned his body in our backyard.”

Sam was quiet for a long time, his eyes looked frantic as they shifted from side to side.

“What’s the last thing you remember Dean?”

“What do you mean what’s the last thing I remember?” he said, dodging the question.

“The hunt! doyourememberthehunt?” Sam was frantic as he spoke, his words bumping into each other.

“Of course I remember the hunt.” He said, looking at Sam as if his younger brothers IQ level had decreased to double digits.

“Tell me what you think happened.”

“Why?” Dean demanded, his patience running thin with his brother.

“Please, just, humor me.”

Dean breathed in deep and exhaled slowly, closed his eyes and began to recount the events that had happened, what seemed and felt like a lifetime ago.

“You called me to help with a hunt; it was supposed to be an easy case, a week, week and a half at the most but it lasted 3 weeks. We thought we were hunting a wraith but it turned out to be a ghoul, we weren’t prepared for that, all we had taken when we crashed its hiding place were silver bullets and silver plated knives. We fought and the bastard threw me against a wall. He then turned on you, I ran back and jumped him from behind, knocking him off you, I had the idea of blinding him, thinking one of us could run back to the car and bring back a machete to hack its head off, when I popped one of his eyes he ran back first to the nearest wall. I hung onto him regardless, it took a few tries for me to let go and when I did he went ahead and pounded my face. The last thing I remember of that was you screaming my name.”

Sam was looking at him intently, hanging on his every word as if what Dean was saying somehow held all the mysteries of the universe.

“Then what happened? You said Cas was dead.”

“I woke up in a hospital, I checked out and headed home.” It took Dean a minute to steady his voice. He knew the the sobs weren’t far away, felt the sting of tears as he revisited the memory of his lover mangled and lifeless on their bedroom floor. His blood soaked into the carpet and long since dried.

“I had tried to call Cas for a few days, I knew he would be worried but I couldn’t seem to get in touch with him that’s why I checked out. The entire drive home, I had this sick feeling in my gut. When I got home, Cas’ car was parked in front of the garage. I went inside and the house stank, this sick, gagging stench was in the air. I called out to him but he didn’t answer. I searched the bottom floor but he wasn’t there and so I headed up.

“I found him in our bedroom floor. Blood soaked into the carpet, his skin looked a dull light purple. One of his eyes was missing.

“That’s when I knew that the ghoul had gotten away.

“At first I was…sad, I was beside myself with grief. But when we set Cas ablaze my grief turned to anger, rage and I wanted revenge. I knew you wouldn’t approve of what I was thinking of doing, knew you would give me the speech of ‘been there done that, it doesn’t help’ but I just couldn’t let it go so when you went out for breakfast I grabbed my keys and left.

“It took me 6 months to track down the ghoul and when I found it, it had the form of its last meal. A teenaged girl, I knocked it out and took her down to the basement of the house it had been squatting in and I tortured it. I tortured it until it died.”

Dean had kept his eyes from Sam, looking at the wrinkles in his sheets. He didn’t want to say the part that followed, he felt ashamed at the way he had succumbed to the need to not feel.

“There’s more, what aren’t you telling me Dean?”

Dean cursed inwardly at his brothers observant skills.

“After that, I got out of the basement and I heard Cas’ voice. Calling me, and everything hurt…I couldn’t take it Sam.”

Dean’s voice broke and tears streaked down his face, his shoulder shaking slightly as the sobs rocked him.

Dean explained how he turned to drugs to help him escape. Told Sam about Steve and the resemblance between Castiel and his former drug dealer.

“When I met him, I didn’t even think about it. I asked him to get into my car and if he knew of a motel…”

“Dean, did you…?

Dean couldn’t look at Sam as he nodded his head.

“What else happened?”

After a month or so, you found me. We had a fight sorta, I stormed out and went to see Steve. We…you know, and then we…”

Dean struggled to find a better way to describe what he and his dealer had done after sex.

“You shot up?”

“Yeah. We shot up. After we woke up from the high, I was getting ready to leave, I asked for him to bring me something from the car, he went through my pockets for the keys and he found Cas’ ring and I just lost it. I said some pretty cruel things to him before I left. I went back to the motel where I was staying and you were in. you helped me get better but then I heard Cas’ voice again, saying that he missed me, to come back to him. And I did the best I could to go to him.”

They were both quiet for a long minute. Dean watched as the tale he had told his younger brother seeped in.

“Dean, do you remember the day I called you for the hunt?”

“Yeah.” Dean answered, clearing his throat to dislodge the knot that had formed there and was forcing him to give single words answers.

“Do you remember the day you left to pick me up?”

“Yes.” He answered again.

“Do you remember the day we broke into the house that the ghoul was hiding in?”

“Yeah.”

“What day was that Dean?”

“July sixteenth.”

Sam smiled as he pulled out his phone from his pocket, pressed the power button at the top making the screen light up and held it out for Dean to take.

Dean took the phone from Sam, he looked at the cover photo. It was a picture of all four of them, one that Jody had taken a thanksgiving last year. They were all gathered around the table in their Sunday best but still managing to look casual. His smiling face as he looked at the camera and held Cas’ hand was now only memory. He looked at his lovers face, the too bright blue eyes he missed so much and that’s when he saw it. The time and date on the lock screen.

2:02 AM

Saturday, July 20.

He looked up from the phone, his mind feeling like he was running through molasses. He turned to look at Sam.

“You’ve been in a coma for four days Dean.”

*****

Cas was sitting on one of the blue chairs, Carmen in the chair next to his, her hand holding tightly to his.

“He must’ve been disoriented because of the medication that he’s on.” Said the redhead, giving his hand a gentle reassuring squeeze, “Don’t worry about it Cas, Sam will take care of it.”

The words were a small comfort for the former angel. The way that his lover had looked at him was etched into his mind. There had been hate in his eyes, the look was one that Dean had worn many times before—usually towards demons and monsters that had tried to hurt Sam, Carmen or Cas himself—but he had never been on the receiving end of that venomous glare.

Cas caught sight of Sam walking out of Dean’s room, the face of the younger Winchester was almost pained and it looked tiered to the extreme. His eyes were slightly red and glassy, he cleared his throat and placed a hand on the former angels shoulder.

“You can go in now Cas, don’t worry about it.”

Cas visibly swallowed, hesitating in his seat.

“It’s alright Cas, it was just…a misunderstanding. He can’t wait to see you.”

Cas needed no further invitation, he let go of Carmen’s hand and without a words walked to Dean’s room, fear and apprehension long forgotten.

He walked into the room, suddenly very aware that Dean could once again dismiss him and threaten to kill him. The confusion made him stop a step away from the edge of the curtain. Dread and uncertainty suddenly filled him from head to toe.

“Cas? Cas is that you?”

Expectation and anticipation colored his lovers voice making him take that final step that would put him past the curtain and in Deans line of sight.

“Cas…” that single word held wonder, relief, gratitude and something that Cas thought resembled reverence.  

“Hello again Dean.” Cas said

Dean reached out his hand and Cas took it without question and let himself be pulled closer by his lover. Dean squeezed his hand and brought it up to his face, the roughness of his days old stubble tickled the inside of his hand, leaning into it as if he was starved for the contact.

“It’s good to see you awake Dean.”

Deans hand slid to the former angels wrist and caressed up his arm. Castiel recognized the action—it was a silent request for Castiel to kiss Dean, he usually did this after a long day of work—and like clockwork he leaned down and pressed his lips to his lovers.

Castiel, mindful of Deans injuries and possible discomfort, had planned to place his lips on Deans for a second. A peck—just the briefest of contact, no matter how badly he wished to kiss, suck and nip at his boyfriends full lips. What he hadn’t expected was the way Dean pulled the former angel back to himself. His lips urgent, needing and demanding against Castiel’s chapped lips. To prevent himself from toppling over and causing Dean more harm, Castiel braced himself by placing a hand on either side of Dean head but never once tried to pull away.

Deans hand released Castiels shirt and snaked its way up to his neck and slid up into the short dark hair holding him firmly in place. Deans slick tongue darted out and pressed against the former angels chapped lips, pushing past them and mingling with its long lost friend.

Cas was able to pull away slightly managing to whisper against Dean’s lips.

“Dean…I could pull something…and injure you further…”

“Don’t care.” Dean replied as he pulled Cas back down, mashing their lips together. His tongue going back to exploring the inside of his lovers mouth.

*****

Deans lungs burned slightly with every breath he took and his lips felt a bit swollen and tingly. He looked at the elderly nurse that was looking over his machines and writing on a chart, her cheeks were a bit red and she was going through extreme lengths to avoid looking Dean or Cas in the eyes.

Dean hadn’t meant to get carried away, he had wanted to feel his lovers lips against his own but when he had felt the slightly chapped lips of the former angel he felt starved for them.

A couple more minutes and the nurse left the room, but not before going over to Cas and whispering something to the brunette. She then smiled and excused herself.

“Guess hospital sex is out of the question.” Dean grumbled as soon as he was sure they were alone.

“Not entirely.” Cas said, matter-of-factly. “She informed me that what she walked into happens more often than not. To not feel embarrassed. And if we wanted to resume our activities, we only had to remove the clip on your finger...”

Dean arched an eyebrow already moving to release his finger from the blue clip.

“She did however advise against it, given your injuries…it would not be wise to move or add pressure to your body.”

Dean looked to his left and glared at the cast on his leg and arm. It would be weeks till he could get the damn things off and be able to walk on his own without fear of him tripping himself and causing the fractures to worsen. He wasn’t even going to think about the shoulder and bruised ribs.

But looking at his lover and feeling how firmly he was holding onto his hand Dean didn’t think it was such a bad idea to be confined to his bed for a few weeks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys. One more chapter to go and "To Die Along With Him" will wrap up.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets to go home from the hospital, cas and him share a moment, and the happy ending i promised when I started this fic.

Cas swore that the sullen look on Deans face was due to the fact that the nurse pushing his wheelchair wasn’t walking fast enough for the likes of the oldest Winchester. It wasn’t until they cleared the automatic doors in the lobby and was maneuvered into the sleek black car that his spirits seemed to lighten. He was downright cheerful when they got onto the highway and was ecstatic when they pulled into their driveway.

Castiel saw Deans expression dampen at the amount of time it took for him to exit the car and steady himself. The former angel rushed over to his side, hands held out to catch him if his one good leg were to give out from under him.

“Relax Cas, I got this.” Said the hunter with a steady voice but the vice like hold on the cars door frame belied his words.

“Please Dean, I will feel more at ease if you would let me help you.” Said Cas as he continued holding out his arms, waiting for Dean to accept the offered help.

With a bit of reluctance Dean slid his good arm across Castiel’s back, holding tightly to his shoulder. Cas in turn wrapped his arm around the hunters waist before picking up the crutch that was leaning against the inside of the door. Together they made their way from the driveway to the five steps of their porch.

Cas suppressed a bit of laughter as Dean complained about the idiocy of having a porch with steps, especially a porch with _five_ steps.

When they finally managed to clear the fifth and final step and enter their home, Dean took the crutch from Cas and went straight to the worn chocolate colored sofa, easing himself down, while Castiel closed the door behind him.

“This is it. I’m not moving from this spot for the next 6 weeks.” Dean declared as he set the crutch aside.

Cas smiled watching Dean sink further down into the soft cushions, having trouble with his cast encased leg. As he watched Dean he felt something flood his system; it was greater than the crushing grief and liberating relief. It started from the middle of his chest and extended itself throughout his limbs. He continued to look at Dean as he struggled to lift his busted leg onto the couch and a single thought echoed in his mind.

_I could have lost him…really lost him._

Castiel had not given himself the chance to think that way in the hospital. He had prayed and hoped and convinced himself that, Dean Winchester, The Righteous Man, The Sword of Michael, would once again pull through. Relief once again washed through the former angel along with the need to affirm that Dean was alive, awake, was at this very moment sitting on their couch trying to reach for the control to the TV.

Cas walked over to the couch and in one lithe movement straddled Deans hips; before the older hunter could question his actions, Castiel took possession of his lips. An all too eager tongue darting out and tracing the plump lips, which easily complied to each silent demand they received from him. Castiel’s hands threaded and gripped the back of Dean’s hair, tilting it back allowing him better access to the older hunters mouth. His slick tongue explored the inside of Dean’s mouth, tracing over every ridge and tooth as if committing it to memory;  he felt a strong arm snake its way around his waist; hugging him tighter and practically crushing him to the body of the still mending hunter. Castiel, feeling the hardening member of his lover, began to move his hips, grinding down against Dean’s cock and feeling it come to full attention. Dean hummed and moaned against Castiels lips and each sound that he made fueled Castiels’ actions.

When the poking became more prominent he released Dean’s lips only to latch onto the skin above his jugular. Kissing, licking and drawing the tanned flesh into his mouth, marking him and making Dean moan between heavy breaths. Castiel’s hands began pulling at the bottom of Deans shirt—who was doing his best to help Cas free him of the unnecessary piece of clothing. Once it was over his head, his taunt chest exposed, Cas let it drape over his injured arm; as he had no patience for maneuvering the deep blue t-shirt over and off the sling Deans arm was resting in.

Dean’s hips began to buck up, his member seeking further friction than the slight grind Cas was providing. Dean’s left hand found its way under Castiel’s shirt and roamed over the toned and heated skin, the tiny beads of sweat making it easier for the rough and calloused hand to slide up and down his back.

The brunet on his lap gave a painfully slow roll of his hips, ripping out a moan from deep inside the older Winchester.

“Cas…”

Dean breathed out before pulling him down and latching onto the exposed skin of his neck. Cas practically purred as Dean licked and drew the skin over his jugular into his mouth, leaving a bright pink splotch as he released and worked a trail of love bites across his neck, stopping when the bright green t-shirt became impossible to move.

“Cas…more…” The raspy voice was nothing more than a whisper of want and need. Cas, with a great deal of willpower, pulled his arms away from Dean and eased himself further down on Deans legs.

Big mistake.

With the added pressure on his bad leg Dean jolted and cried out in pain.

“Sonofabitch!”

Cas immediately rose onto his knees taking his weight off of Dean, the action making him notice how his pants shifting uncomfortably against his too hard cock. Dean breathed deep and exhaled slowly as he uselessly rubbed circles on his thigh.

“I’m sorry Dean…I didn’t mean to…maybe we should wait until you’ve completely recovered.” Cas said, before he could completely remove himself, Dean grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

“Don’t you dare,” The words were meant to be a threat but the malice was lost at low and breathless tone of Deans voice. (From both the pain and the heavy, heady kisses they had shared just seconds before.)

“Dean your injury—”

“You are not leaving me like this,” Castiels eyes went to Dean’s crotch; he could make out the outline of Deans erection as it pressed uncomfortably against his jeans.

“But your leg…” Cas said but there was no real argument behind his words, already he was slowly sinking back down onto Deans thighs.

Dean pulled him down the rest of the way, capturing Castiel’s lips and eagerly devoured them. His grip on the shirt loosened and slid down to the former angels groin, feeling the swollen member that he swore he could feel getting harder as he lightly palmed it through the denim.

“You started this and I’ll be damned if we ain’t gonna to finish it.”

Cas gave a low moan as Dean’s hand pressed harder on his cock, his hips bucking up into the touch involuntarily. It wasn’t long before Cas was a mess of moans, grunts and pleading whimpers. With a few quick fluid movement Dean had Cas’ erection free from his jeans, pumping it slowly, spreading the few drops of precum that started to gather at the slit of castiels cock as Cas tried to free the hunters own straining member from the confines of his jeans. Once free, Dean began bucking into Castiel’s grip as he worked to pump the slick member in his hand.

“Dean…” Cas breathed, voice a low moan as he pressed his forehead against Deans’, chest rising and falling heavily as Dean worked him as best he could with one hand. Cas trapped Deans lips and with his tongue simulated what he wanted Dean to do to him. The older Winchester shuddered as he read Castiels message loud and clear.

When they broke apart, Cas removed himself completely from Deans lap, both letting out a small whine as they missed the heat of the other, Cas took hold of Deans jeans and began working them off his hips. They didn’t go down far but Deans member was now completely free and exposed. He lowered himself to his knees and gripped his lovers cock; he looked up at Dean who was gripping the cushion with his one good hand. Cas smiled and pressed his tongue flat against Deans dick and gave a painfully slow lick, from the base to the crown of the member in his hand. He did this two more times before engulfing as much of the member as he could, pumping the rest with his hand; hollowing his cheeks and sucking on the tip as he worked the shaft with his hand.

It wasn’t long before Dean had his hand in the brunet hair, urging him to go faster and take him in deeper.

Castiel relaxed his jaw and throat and took him in deeper, sucking while his tongue moved in circles against the shaft rendering Dean to a mess of moans and white knuckles. He let go of Dean with a pop and got up, Dean being too far gone to protest watched him stand and disappear from his line of sight.

When Cas didn’t come back immediately, Dean thought of finishing himself off but he knew Cas better than that. He just hoped the former angel reappeared before he went completely soft. He heard the soft padding of bare feet on the carpet and then Cas came into view, pants gone and a tube of lube in his hand. He quickly straddled Deans thighs and squeezed a generous amount of the clear gel onto his fingers which quickly disappeared behind him. As Cas prepared himself for Dean, who loosely pumped Cas’ dick as he felt his come back to life. It wasn’t long before Cas had 2 fingers inside himself and was bucking back into his hand and moaning as Dean kissed and nipped on the skin of his chest, neck and shoulders all the while pumping Castiels leaking shaft.

When Castiel was moving more freely, Dean knew that the brunet was ready for him. He stopped pumping his dick and moved his hand to join Castiels. The former angels rear entrance was slippery as Dean moved one of his own fingers to join Castiels. As he pushed forward Castiel only gave a grunt and his hips slowed in their thrusting. It took some time for his body to adjust to the new digit that was working to open him further and was going in further into him. After a few slow thrusts of Deans finger and the scissoring of Castiels own digits, he was once again feeling pleasure rather than pain, his grunts turning to moans as he began to pump his dick in time with the movement that were taking place at his rear.

Cas was rocking and moaning in ecstasy, Dean looking to further his lovers pleasure assaulted the pink nipples, sucking, nibbling and rolling them in his mouth. Once he was done abusing the left nipple Dean moved to the right but before he could close his lips around the hardened nipple Cas ran his lubed slicked hand into his hair and pulled, exposing his neck to the brunet who ran a pink tongue from the base of his neck to his ear and then proceeded to trap his lips. Sucking the full bottom lip into his mouth and abused it relentlessly. Cas pressed his flush and heated body against Dean who in turn plunged his fingers into the former angels stretched entrance, angling his fingers in a number of way to reach Castiels prostate.

In the recesses of his mind, Dean though it funny how after all the practice they’ve had it still took him a considerable amount of time for him to find the former angels prostate gland. 

As soon as that thought crossed his mind the pad of his fingers touched against something spongy, making Cas rip his lips off of Dean and give a howl like moan that made his back arch and throw his head back.

“Can’t…Dean…”

Upon hearing Castiels needy words, Dean took out his fingers from inside the former angel, quickly lubed his own shaft and aligned himself with Castiels stretched entrance. When Castiel felt the tip of Deans dick he lowered himself onto it, raspy moans escaping through his lips as he took each inch of the hunter. Once Deans shaft was completely sheathed in Cas, it took the former angel a minute and several deep breaths for him to adjust to the feeling of being overly full.

“Cas…move.” The words were almost a plea as Dean’s hand gripped Castiels’ hip to guide him.

Slowly, far too slowly for Dean’s liking, Cas moved his hips back and forth. After a while of slow rolls Cas settled into a steady rhythm, one which had Dean moaning and thrusting—no matter how difficult it was for the hunter—into Castiel.

“So tight Cas…” Dean muttered into the shoulder of the former angel.

Deans hand alternated between gripping at the former angels hip, running it up and down his side and gripping the soft flesh from Castiels’ ass.

Cas reached for Dean’s hand and moved it to his long neglected phallus which was flushed, leaking and standing at full attention between them.

“I got you Cas”

As soon as Dean took hold of Castiel’s hard member he began to pump, slowly at first then building up to match the rhythm of Cas’ hips. His grip changing every few strokes, going all the way down to the base and coming up over the head or going halfway down the shaft, or just pumping the head.

Each method had a different effect on Castiel, long needy moans, short raspy grunts or—Dean’s personal favorite—loud outcries of pleasure, ones which usually ended in the brunet saying breathless words or for all Dean knew complete sentences—in enochian. And at the moment, Dean was composing a sweet melody out of Castiel’s moans; working himself and Cas up to the grand finale.

After a few more thrust and strokes, Cas’ back was arching away from Deans body, his eyes rolling back and muttering words that Dean could not understand. Dean felt the muscles around his cock tighten and Cas was crying out Dean’s name in ecstasy, hot white streaks shooting out of his dick and onto Dean’s stomach. A few thrust later Dean was emptying himself out in Castiel.

They stayed connected like that for a while, both basking in the boneless afterglow of great sex. When they were both limp again, Cas stood, wincing slightly as Dean’s dick slipped out of hism.

“We should clean up” Cas said, his voice coming out hoarser than usual.

Dean only groaned as he looked and felt the drying cum on his stomach then held out a hand for Cas to help him up and off the couch. It was a bit of a struggle to get to the downstairs bathroom and an almost impossible battle when they tried to fit onto the small shower. Not to mention completely stripping Dean of every article of clothing. The sling in which his arm was resting got wet; the cast on his leg was soaked despite the plastic bag wrapped around it.

The shower was quick, even though Dean felt he could go for round 2 when Cas started washing his body. Dean didn’t know if to be grateful or disappointed that he wasn’t up for an encore.

After washing out every soapy spud, Cas turned off the water and maneuvered Dean out of the small shower, wrapping a towel around the hunters waist and one around his own.

Castiel was about to start helping Dean dry off when the hunter suggested he go bring their clothes.

“Are you sure Dean?”

“Yes Cas, I’m fine I can manage drying myself off, but there is no way I’m heading upstairs before this thing comes off.” He said, motioning to the cast on his leg.

Cas hesitated for a second, looking at Dean as he undid the towel and padded himself, making the water droplets on his skin disappear. Once he was positive Dean was fine on his own, he walked out of the small bathroom and headed upstairs.

Dean smiled as he heard the soft padding of bare feet get further and further away. As he finished drying himself off, Dean thought about the hellish weeks that were ahead of him and just as he was about to groan, the thought of Cas straddling him took over his mind quickly making him change his opinion on the next few weeks.

Just as he finished that thought Cas opened the door, a change of clothes for Dean in his hands. Dean couldn’t help but notice that the former angel had changed into a faded AC/DC t-shirt and a pair of tattered sweat pants. His hair was slightly damp and sticking out in different directions.

“Here.” He said as he handed Dean his clothes, boxer briefs, some old sweats that had been cut into shorts and a plain black t-shirt.

After Cas had managed to get Dean into his clothes, they went back to the living room, Cas gingerly settling Dean back onto the couch and propping his leg on one of the cushions placing a kiss on the older Winchesters’ forehead and saying,

“I’m going to get the laundry started.”

Dean only smiled and nodded, reached for the remote to the TV and turned it on. He flipped through the channels looking for something good to watch. When the picture and set of Dr. Sexy M.D. popped up on the screen Dean set the control down and leaned further into the cushions. After a few minutes, the show went into a commercial, it faded in and out of happy couples, of said couples standing in front of glass display cases and admiring the jewelry in them. Of them standing together in a suit and white gown, holding each other’s hands and slipping a gold band on each other’s fingers.

Dean thought back to what he swore had been his life, he thought about the regret and pain and loss he had felt. He thought about how in the blink of an eye everything could change, for better or for worse. It was with that thought in mind that he called out Cas.

“Hey Cas!”

“What is it Dean?” came the reply from the laundry room.

“Could you bring me my jacket?”

There was no answer but he could make out the faint rustling of clothes. A few minutes later he heard bare feet making their way to where he was.

“We forgot to bring in the duffel bag you took; your jacket must still be in the car as well.”

With that Cas disappeared through the front door and a minute later he came back, the old leather jacket draped over his arm and the duffel bag in his hand.  Cas handed the jacket to Dean and went back to the laundry room to separate the clothes in the duffel bag and continue washing. Dean searched through the pockets almost frantic when his hands came out empty from the outside pockets. His heartbeat went down significantly when his fingertips touched the soft velvet box. When he pulled his hand out, the soft velvet ring case in his grasp he debated with himself. Should he wait till his leg was out of the infernal cast so he could get down on one knee and present the ring to Cas? Or maybe take him out for a nice dinner and ask one of the waiters to slip the ring in whatever Cas had to drink or maybe in his dessert.

Dean discarded those thoughts almost instantly, the entire thing seem…it just wasn’t him, wasn’t them.

He heard the soft padding of bare feet heading his way and quickly tucked the box into the pocket of his shorts. A few seconds later Cas took the seat beside him and watched the images on the screen play on. Dean reached over and wordlessly took his hand, lacing their fingers together then bringing up to his lips and kissed the back of his hand. They watched show after show,( content and enjoying each other’s company;) occasionally Dean would kiss Castiel’s hand or squeeze it slightly. Cas smiled and would return each gentle gesture with a kiss to the Deans temple. They fell asleep like that, Dean holding Cas’ hand to his chest while Cas had tried not to lean too close to Dean’s side in fear of hurting the healing hunter.

Dean had spent days coming up with ways to ask Castiel to marry him and every time he had shuddered at the plans he had made. He had to remind himself on several occasions that Cas was not a teenage girl waiting for her “Prince Charming” or a twenty-something woman dying to be swept off her feet. He was strong, able, independent, a little rough around the edges when “human emotions” were concerned but by no means oblivious to them. Dean didn’t think Cas would appreciate being treated as anything other than that.

*             *             *             *             *

It was a Thursday afternoon a week and a half after Cas had taken him home, that a more intimate and comfortable scenario started to form in his mind. There was a grill, the smell of burgers in the air, Cas and Dean holding hands surrounded by friends and family.

He took out his phone and after a few swipes on the screen typed up the message:

_How do you feel about having a bbq when I get the casts off?_

And hit send.

The reply came almost instantly.

_It sounds like a good idea. But do you want to wait that long?_

If he was being honest with himself, Dean didn’t want to wait another minute to pop the big question but he also didn’t want to do it with his arm in a sling and his leg in a cast. He typed up his reply

_Yeah, I’m not going to be hobbling around the backyard or sitting down the entire time. Besides I don’t trust Sam with the grill._

And hit send.

Dean smiled, and wished that the days would go by sooner.

*             *             *             *             *

It had been four weeks, four infernal weeks that he had been mostly bound to the couch; his leg propped up on a leg rest and his arm in a sling, but today was the day. The casts were coming off and he couldn’t be happier.

They waited for Dean to be called in to one of the rooms. After the cast was cut off and a few x-rays Dean was told he was good to go.

With a smile and a simple, “Thanks Doc.” Dean left the sterile hospital room with a bit of a bounce in his step.

*             *             *             *             *

Dean was flipping the last of the burgers on the grill. Carmen and Garth were setting some sodas, a few bottles of beer and a small variety of salads on the table as Cas started calling for everyone to take their place around the table and handing out Styrofoam plates.

After a few minutes burgers were started to be passed around, bottles of beer and  cans of sodas opened.

They were all eating and talking happily, Dean debated for a few minutes if he should interrupt the conversation that was taking place or if he should wait. The minutes passed by, one topic flowing seamlessly to another, the mountain of burgers and hot dogs dwindled down. A few minutes later, Mrs. Tran and Kevin where helping with clearing the empty plates and bottles.

It was then when Dean decided it was time.

“Hold on guys.” He said as Mrs. Tran got up ready to grab one of the huge black trash bags from under the kitchen sink and every pair of eyes turned to him.

When he didn’t move to say anything, Cas peered at his face questioningly.

“What is it Dean?” Castiel asked  as he gently placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“It’s…good to be home, with family.” He said as he smiled at the people that were sharing his table. To his left, Sam, Carmen, and Garth, at his right Cas, Mrs. Tran, Kevin and Charlie.

Dean stood from his chair bringing Cas with him and holding both his hands in his.

“And it’s in front of our family that I want to ask you Cas.” Dean let go of one of Castiel’s hands and reached into his jeans pocket and took out the silver band, several audible gasps were heard as he held the ring between his thumb and index finger for Cas and every one to see. Then, without further hesitation asked,

“Will you marry me?”

The answer came loud, clear and full of conviction and commitment.

“Yes.”

Dean smiled and pulled Cas to himself, wrapping his arms around him as cheerful laughter and phrases of celebration came from around them.

 

_Epilogue._

_Months Later_

 

Dean could see Cas out of the corner of his eye, standing ramrod straight in the long forgotten tax accountant suit—minus the trench coat and suit jacket; eyes trained forward and intent on the fortysomething old man that was doing the entire “we are gathered here today…” bit.

To his right he could see Sam, standing at attention, dressed in dark blue jeans that he guessed were new and a gray shirt with its sleeves rolled to his elbows and with what most likely were tears in his eyes; beside him Carmen. Her fiery red hair pulled back into a messy braid that started at the top of her head and draped down her left side, dressed in a pale pink dress with what he thought looked like a flower pattern. Her arm was hooked around Sams’, the corners of her bright pink lips curled up in a smile and her eyes glistened with what he interpreted as happy tears. A step beside her was Kevin and Mrs. Tran. He felt happy when he saw that Kevin looked a bit more like his old self, dressed in a pale blue button down shirt and some stylishly faded dark jeans. Mrs. Tran was sporting a white button down shirt with blue flowers scattered all over and a pair of tan slacks. Garth was beside them; dressed in old jeans and several layers of shirts. Dean looked over to the opposite side and was able to catch Jody and Charlie. The Sioux Falls Sheriff had happy tears in her eyes and was clutching a crumpled tissue to her quivering pale pink lips. (It seemed a bit odd for Dean to see her in something other than her sheriff’s uniform but the jeans, white shirt and pale blue plaid over shirt was a welcomed change.) Beside her, Charlie—dressed in bright colors and dark jeans—her hand in the crook of Jody’s elbow; her hair falling on either side of her face in loose ringlets and her too long bangs swept and pinned to the side of her head, her lips spread in a smile so wide, Dean thought it would split her face in half.

Then, his eyes fell on the portraits that were set up a few feet from Charlie. The first was of John and Mary, forever frozen in time in their younger years—he assumed it was from when they had recently started living together—they looked so happy and young and full of life and hope for the future. Next was a picture of Bobby, a candid shot that showed the grumpy man looking up from an old book, a half empty beer bottle in his free hand. In the following frame was a picture of Ellen and Jo, both of the Harvelle women smiling at the camera in the middle of an empty Roadhouse—and if Dean squinted, he could make out the shape of Ash passed out on the pool table in the background.

It was the closest he would ever get to sharing his wedding day with his family; including those that were no longer living but never far from his thoughts.

He felt the familiar sting of tears in his eyes. Even though Dean wasn’t big on sharing or putting his feelings into words he knew that, if his parents, Bobby, Ellen and Jo were still alive, they’d be sharing this moment with him, smiling, happy. Happy for Dean because he had found the one person that made everything just a little better, made the world just a little bit brighter despite all the ugly things he knew waited in the wings. And he knew that they would all approve of Cas, he might’ve had a rocky start and had to overcome some bumps in the road but he had always been trying to do the things that served the greater good even if he had been misguided in a few of his endeavors.

Dean snapped out of his reverie just in time to hear the judge say for them to face each other.

“Dean, do you take Castiel to be your wedded husband for as long as you both shall live?”

Dean stared into pools of too blue eyes, full of loving and trust.

“I do.” The words rang with truth and made every fiber in Deans being vibrate as a smile broke across Castiel’s lips.

“Castiel, do you take Dean to be your wedded husband for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Cas’ words echoed the promise Dean had just made and he felt the same smile spread across his own lips at Castiel’s words.

“Do you have rings to present?”

“Yeah,” Dean looked behind him to Sam who hurriedly dug through his pockets and fished out the two silver bands and handed one to Dean and the other to Castiel.

“Dean, take Castiel’s hand and repeat after me.”

Dean reached for Cas’ left hand and held the ring at the tip of his fourth finger, just above the fingernail and waited.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of our lov—” The judge started but is interrupted by Dean before he can finish.

“Sorry, but I’d like to say it my way.”

The judge looked up from his script and after a moment, folds his hands in front of him and nods for Dean to go ahead.

Dean looks into Castiel’s eyes again, almost getting lost in their depth and swallows before he starts.

He stops for a second and tries to swallow the lump that has formed in his throat, then gives Castiel’s hand a gentle squeeze and says, “Cas, I promise to always come back to you…to always find my way to the home we’ve created.”

Dean slipped the ring to the base of Castiel’s finger.

Without missing a beat, Cas took Dean’s left hand and held the silver band over his fingernail and without being prompted said,

“Dean, I will stand beside you until I cease to exist.”

Their words were simple, nothing grand like what the judge had most likely prepared for them. But it worked for them, for they both knew the weight their simple vows carried.

When neither of them made any signs of talking further, the judge smiled and extended his arms.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you spouses for life.”

Dean didn’t wait for the judge to say the “You may kiss” line. He reached out and took Castiel’s face in his hands, his thumb stroking the top of his cheek as he leaned in. Before the space between them was completely gone, Castiel whispered against his lips,

“ _Olani hoath ol._ ”

The kiss Dean placed against Castiel’s lips was meant to be sweet and innocent, but the kiss that Castiel returned was more mischievous. A kiss that held the promise of something more passionate and lustful behind closed doors.

When they pulled away, a little out of breath, Dean whispered back to Castiel,

“Olani hoath ol.”

The handful of people broke out in cheers, and before they could turn around to face their friends and family, they were pulled into half hugs, with tearful congratulations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Olani hoath ol" means "I love you" in Enochian.
> 
> A quick "Thank You" to everyone that has read this fic in whatever form you came across it. As a draft that needed to be beta'd or the semblance of a chapter. You are all awesome, and I cant thank you enough for the encouragement to not let this fic get lost in my computer and die.

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any tags that you feel should be added to this work, please let me know.  
> Suggestions/ critiques are always welcome.  
> Thank you for reading.


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